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January 1964 Rs 1-75 


• ‘ . ‘£'ft 

Answers to the quiz on page 7 


(1) appease- -C To pacify; calm; soothe, 

satisfy; conciliate, as, an attempt to 
appease the hotheads Old French apaimr^ 
from I^tin pacem “peace.” 

(2) acquiesce—h I’o accept oi comply 
tacitly or passively, without active op- 
position Latin aie/Meuere, rest ” 

(3) detonate--!)' To explode or cause to 
explode, as, to detnnati a ckirgc of 
dynamitt. Latin deionare^ “to thunder 
down.” 

(4) ransack C'. 'Po search thoroughly, 
rummage, exploit, as, to ransack one*s 
memoi v Old N^ise rattnsaka, “to search 
a house.” 

(5) enjoin- \ To forbid, prohibit (by 
law) Old French enjomdre^ frf»m 1-atiii 
mjungere^ “to j<un mt<^, charge. “ 

(6) repudiate— I) To reject <ii diseluim, 
disown; i(*n(mnce, .is, to repudiate a 
treaty. \ Aii in rtpudiare 

(7) foment B '!(» s»ir up, instigaic, as, 
to foment a iml J.atin fomeuttsti^ from 
fomemum^ “a >\aim h/tioii ” 

(8) pre-empt \ 'I’o appropriate, take 
possession «if to the <.xclusu)n of othcis, 
as, to pte-empt the best seat, 

(9) burgeon-- 1) To send foith buds or 
shoots, sprout; hence, tft show signs of 
life, as, a hope that httni^eom in the heart 
Old Incnch hnrjoh 

(10; expunge A: 'Po IVot out; fiblintate, 
as, t( vxpunci mv fh«>ughl of f.ulure 
Latin ey:pHnptri\ “to nurk foi erasure ” 


(11) culminate — B: To reach a final cjfcct; 
attain the highest point or degree, as, 
effort that culminates in success. Latin 
cuJminare, from cidmen, “top.” 

(12) appertain— C' To belong to by right, 
association or fitness; as, laws that 
appertain tn commerce, Latin appertinere^ 
from ad and pertinere, “to belong.” 

(13) countenance — B To encourage by 
showing approval, favour; sanction, as, 
tf) countenance early marriages Old Fiench 
contenance. 

(14) covet — D: To desire eagerly, long foi, 
especially something belonging to an- 
other; as. a nation that coveh another 
nation’s markets Old i^’rench cuveiticr. 

(15) elicit C: To draw foith, evoke, as, 
to elicit a rcpl\. Latin (lutre, fioin p-, 
“out,” and laceie, “to entice, lure ” 

(16) dally — A To tulle or play with, as, 
to dally with anothet’s alkttions Old 
Flench dalier^ “to chut ” 

(17) proliferate- ( . '.'’o pn >ducc fre qui ntly; 
fLpitjducc, cspLCi.iliy ^^llh rapidit\, as, 
“Government rules and leguLuions 
proliferate ” Latin proles^ “i»lKpnng,” and 
//rrp, “to bear.” 

(18) concoct H 'Po prepare or make up, 
as, tti connjct an appeti/ing stev^, or, 
ligurativch, to ,amoct an excuse 1 it in 
conroftuf, liom lomoifinre^ “lo cook 
tc^gether ” 

(19) denominate L) 'lo name, dcMg- 
nate, as, to dtnom/Ui/ti a suctessot Latin 
denominare, “to tall b) name ” 

(20) arraign - A To call to .u count, ac- 
cuse, specilu.ilb, to call (a prisoner) bc- 
fote a court to .mswet a ihaige Latin 
adrationare^ “lo te*as<»n ” 


Vocabulary Ratings 

20- 19 correct excellent 

18 17 correct ... . . . .gof)d 

16" 15 coircct fair 


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ASP M-21 







VDLIIME 84 Reader's Digest JWUVRV I()04 


Why 

John Kennedy 
Died 


The Jolhxving article i.\ being published this month 
in the U.S. Edition of The Header s Dig;est under 
the signature of the Editors who describe it as an 
appeal to the American people to '[find themselres" 


I \ Tilt lonjy hist()i\ ()l ihc 
world, only .1 few i>(’ncnitions 
have 'iccii granrccl ihc role ol 
defending freedom in its hour of 
maximum danger. I do not shrink 
frtjni this iTsptinsibdit) 1 welcome 
11. 1 do not helicve that .my of us 
would exch.mge places witli an) 
other [ico[)le or any other genera- 
tion The energy, I lie faith, the 
dtvtition whuh we bring to this 
endeavour will light our eoiintrs 
and all w^ho serve it- -and the ^low 


fiom that fire can trulv light tfu- 
World." -From the Ad- 

dress deliucred hy President John F. 
Kennedy on Junuaty 20, n)()i. 

It must be ^aid, m sorrow .md in 
shame, that the shocking assassina- 
tion of President' John Kennedy 
on November 22 was a product of 
our times. Although w'e live in an 
eia of so-called enlightenment, 
ol da//Jing mateiial aehievtment, 
the spirit of hatred and violence 
IS a growing m.ilaise throughout 


21 


THE READER'S DIGEST 


the world. In Dallas, it erupted into 
an .ici so monstrous that Americans 
must now look into their hearts and 
ask* what is happening to them as 
a people and to mankind. 

Abraham Lincoln said of his 
country that it was “A nation under 
<Jod." These simple words voiced 
a iiobility ot [)urposc which has 
carried the United Stales through 
many crises of war and peace. 'I’he 
Ahiencan people are dedicated to 
loler.ince and fair play and to the 
democratic processes. The\ believe 
111 the pniiLi[)!es of ('hristianit\ . 
That is whal thev ha\e said. 

el somehc)W, in the vears since 
the war, Amenc.iiis seem to ha\c 
lost sight of the ideals which hn\e 
made their nation strong and great 

H:itremists ot mans persuasions— 
the ( lomnuinists, the self-righteous 
/eahns of the bar L<‘tt and I'ar 
Riglil, the racists, ihe religious 
bigots- -preach the Mckne\ss of in- 
nileraiKe and surround ihemsclvts 
wuh their own cults (;f w'or- 
shi{)p(Ts. It 11 be argued that, 
under the blessing of freedom of 
speech, these purstyors ot hate arc 
entitled to speak as lhe\ [ilease. In- 
deed they are, under the law. Hut it 
is also true that the reckless abuse 
of any freedom can turn it into a 
ghastlv mockery. I’he freedoms of 
democracy were established on the 
assumption that men of reason and 
goodwill could learn to accommo- 
date themselves tj the dccisirjns of 
the majority I’a»r debate and honest 
opposition, which are two of 
22 


January 

democracy’s strongest pillars, must 
not be confused widi vilification 
and bigotry. 

Inevitably, the tragic result of 
hatred is violence, and violence 
feeds upon violence and breeds 
more violence. A church is dyna- 
mited and children are killeel in 
Birmingham, Alabama, and a few 
weeks later stones arc thrown 
through the windows of a Negro 
home in a respectable cornmunitv 
f>f suburban Philadelphia. Beatings 
and shootings lead to other beatings 
and shootings in distant eilics. A 
/.cilot with hailed in his hcari tells 
his followers that “those Kennedy s 
ought to be shot,” and finally a riile* 
speaks in Dallas and a President 
dies. Not oriK does the world l(»s.* 
a great le'ader -a m.in dedieated to 
peaie and tlie heltermcni of man 
kiiul--but all Ainerkans aie faced 
w^lh the negation of the* democraliL 
ideal which they (;iKe cherished 
more ifian life itself. And as a linal 
act in this epic of shame, the siis 
peeled assassin is struck down by 
another lawless bullet. 

What IS happening to the United 
States" Have AmerKans carried the 
violent spirit of war over into their 
peacetime lives? Have they become 
so complacent in their enj<wment 
of their material blessings that thev 
have forsaken those nobler things 
of tin spirit? Have they forgotten 
the ancient truths spoken hy the 
prophets? D(x;s the compassion of 
Christ no longer mean anything to 
large numbers of Americans? 



^f7/y lOHN KENNEDY DIED 


1^64 

On the evening of President 
Kennedy’s assassination, a tele- 
vision rcfXMter prowling the corri- 
dors of the United Nations sought 
the comments of several delegates 
from the newly emerged nations of 
Africa. Under the profound imp.ict 
of the murder in Dallas, they ques- 
tioned whether democracy was .• 
valid form of government- - whether 
it could last. 

Democracy will last, because it is 
the only deceni form ol government 
that man has been able to devise. 
Ikit a world in turmoil can ill afford 
the. sptctacle of a nation — supposed 
to be the shining example of a great 
political faith — settling its diller- 
ences with violence. Americans can- 
not reform the rest of the woild, 
but they can and must reform 
llicmsclvts. '( hev must search their 
souls. 

It IS time for parents to assert 
their aiithoritv once more. It is time 
for the churt^hes and the schools to 


try harder than they are now trying 
to rebuild the moral fibre of their 
country. It is time for men of fair 
minds to speak out, with a great .Ind 
persistent voice, against the ex- 
tremists of .ill flavours. And this 
applies doubly to politicians run- 
ning for oflicc. 

c3n that black night of Novem- 
ber 22, .1 radio reporter stood in 
New York's Times Sc]uarc, study- 
ing the reaction of the people. They 
were stiM slunned, numb, unbeliev- 
ing. Hut they sensed, too, that this 
dreadful event was nol something 
apart from them. It was their 
history that h.ul been made this 
day. It was an event in which they 
were all somehow involved. And 
one young man he talked with 
summed it ii[) -this haunting sense 
of involvement and pcrson.il re 
sponsibihlv. “We should all go 
home to discover who vve are," he 
said, “We should all go home to 
find ourselves." 


Murder in Dallas 

.'In account of events that took place in Dallas, Texas, 
on November 22, 1962 — a day that xvill for 
ever l)e engraved in shame in American memory 


I \ f)\F. sudden, swift, awful con- 
vulsion of history l.ist Novenv 
'CT 22, the majesty and the 
burdens of the Presidency of the 
United Stales shifted from one man 


to another. John Fitzgerald Ken- 
nedy was cut down ir his 47th year 
bv an assassin's bullet in Dallas, 
Texas. In the brief span of ^0 
minutes, incredibly, this tanned. 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


vigorciiis, lulc voung man — the 
youngest ever elected President— 
was dead. 

1 he assassinatHjn was an act ol 
divSuniU. Vet it prodiRed Us own 
unit), a ».(>mmiinK)n ni ilislieliel 
and sorrow and angtr that touched 
n/o million Ameriians. And it 
dem<Mistiated once again the re 
rnarlv.iblc eoiit)nuit\ ot this oUlest 
of tonslUutional r(.pnbhx.s Foi the 
eiglilli time, a presideiu had ilied in 
oIIkc b'Ur I'l tfiern at flu hands ot 
an .Msassin lint. ]ust 107 miniiUs 
aftii J'^hn Kenncdx’s d..atlu the 
ritual act (ft MK(.essi.)n h ul been 
perlr>imM] lAndon IJainos [ohnson 
had rcLited the ^.pwnid oath ot 
offue and the Uvo j>rcsid( tUs were 
hom^waid b</anvl ln^(lh(r. 

That Certain Smile. )olin 
K( rnied) had been Uose to deith 
beteu * Like iiu pi<si.l(ni, he had 
b('ei' threatened inniiiner ihle tini<s 
“S-o bv post Ml his tirsi vear ahav 
Onu h(.t(’ie, .it(/r a dull* till back 
opvTation, thi' last i !r»'s ut Ins eluirs h 
had been iiotnti »"Li him. A\nd 
\cars bdoie liiat, \\ti<n a Ja[)anese 
d(strf)\tr knited hi.% IragiK IH' i(.») 
in two, ht said, “1 his 1 - how it hels 
lo be kiih <1 ” 

Yet orih Ins [»ohiual lift tx- 
peitaiiLV s( tin'll to i.MKeiii him 
fluring his last weik ot hli Still an 
unaniK'UiKul candid. ite l<»r i 
second term, hr swung first 
an OSS Florida .iiid then into 
Texas. 1 hough tiie trips were *id- 
vertiscd as non pf^htiial, the Presi 
dent was wearing that certain smde. 
^4 


January 

And he was, as always, careless of 
his own security. In the glow nf 
southern sunshine and the friendly 
crowds that lined his way, he had 
the protective plastic bubble-lop of 
his custom-made blue lancoln 
limousine lowered so that he could 
St ind and wave and smile as he 
rode Hut then, hadn't every U.S 
President since William McKinlev 
travelled in open cars" And hadn't 
the Secret SeiMie checkefl ever\ 
foot he would travel^ 

d’he 'I'cxas glf>w is panic ularK 
Li>infortmg. The Pusidenf was 
in living enciniraging liiMdw.iv on 
i>ne [^nme mission --smoothing our 
a biittr factional fight beiween a 
'Pots Demovi iiii Nor led b\ Vice 
IVisulent lohnson and (iovernor 
)f)hn t ’omirilh and a Liberal eoah 
non around SiMiatoi Ral[)h ^'ar 
hiMoiigh. His wife laupiihni' 
making her lust camp.iign joiiniev 
with him sinie lofu' "was nnising 
the crowds ai evers stop San 
Antumo. Hoiislon. b'orl Worth, 
and now 1 ).il!as. 

The Presulcnt wms loiising them, 
loo. He siart**cl iIk day 111 I'fiit 
W'orth, Talking lo a irfAvd of rank 
aiifl fill Democrats in his hotel i ar 
park, then to a (di.imber of t"om- 
miTi e breakfast mside. 

The Cdiamber gave ium a broad 
brimmed hat; the I^resident, smil- 
ing, promised to tr\ it on b..ck 
home at the WMiite House He p<U 
in a happy g^th birthday caP lo 
former Vice-President John Nance 
Ciarner at Uvalde. “(h)d bless \ou,” 



f ()64 JOHN KENNEDY DIED 


the grizzled C'.ictiis Jack said into 
the phone. “You’re my President 
and 1 love vou. 1 hope you stay in 
there for ever." 

At IT.:57 a.m., the President’s big 
fan-jet — Air Force One -settled in 
.It Dallas’s Love Field. He .ind Mrs. 
Kennedy, who was carrying a bou 
quet ol red roses, shfKik hands with 
the whooping crow'd across a vhain 
tence Tlien they slipped into the 
kick scat of the l^resukntial 
linuHisine-- Rennedv on the right, 
his wife besiile him. (Governor 
('(^nnallv and his wde took the 
folding seats Thiee of the Presi- 
dent’s ^() Scertl Service escorts rode 
in tiont, one on a side platform, and 
a carload mon* in the “Queen 
Marv’* a biillctproof securitv c ir 

-close behind. Yarborough jtjined 
♦he lohnsons in the third car iii the 
12-iar motorcade, and olf it 
rumbled for the tcn-mile trip 
through downtown Dallas to the 
Presnk Fit’s next s|KMking date- .1 
i ivn luncheon at the Dallas 'Frade 
Mart. 

The President and the Rightists. 

As the Prc-Nidcnt well knew, Dallas 
is a citadel of Right Wing strength. 
Yet, to his pleasant surprise, thou- 
sands ot theering Dallas residents 
shill sleeved in the 7b-degree 
warmth- lined his route 12 deep. 
I’hrough the downtown ride, he 
stood and waved. Then, as the 
moi< arcade rolled at 25 milc.s an 
hour down Mam Street tow.uds a 
triple under p.iss in an industrial area 
^‘dging downtown, he Stit back and 


chatted happily with the Cainnallys. 

“Well,” said Mrs. C^onnally, 
“You can’t say Dallas isn’t tnendly 
today.” 

Crac/( f 

A rifle shot split the air. 

(Vuc/^f 

I’wo more followed. 

The President of the L-nilcil 
States -caught apparently b\ the 
lirst spun in his scat. “I thought it 
was a backfire,” said Dallas patrol- 
man James ('haney, who was riding 
a motorcycle six feet from the right 
rcMr bumper of (he President's car 
“The Piesident jerked his bead 
round . . then came the second 
shot and his head t xploded m 
blood . 

Turning to look, Ciovernor ('on- 
nails trM)k lh(‘ third bullet just 
below the right shoulder blade. It 
ri[ipecl out through his chesU 
pierced his wrist, and lodged in his 
tlugh. Hut the turn sased his life. 

F\»r a chaotic moment, the mou^r 
cade ground to an uncertain li.ill. 

“Oh, no^” laccjuelinc Kemu'ds 
cried, tumbling .icross her liiis 
band’s body to shield him. His arm 
reached out, iig’d, his fist clenched; 
she cl.ispcd it in one white gloscd 
hand. 

vSccrel Service agent C'lmt Hill 
vaulted from his pcrcli on a plat 
form .It the left rear bumper into 
the hack scat and fell across them 
both. CJovernoi (\)nrially slumped 
into his wife’s arms. 

An agent up front jumped to his 
feet, grabbed the radio-telephone 

^5 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


and called to police riding ahead : 
“Let’s go straight to the nearest 
hospital.” Another yelled back to 
the** Johnson car: “Get down — get 
down!” The Vice-President, his 
wife, and \'arborough ducked to 
the floorboards. 

Rcflexivcly, the President’s Secret 
Servue driver started the car and 
roared of? towards Parkland 
Memorial Hospital, three and a 
quarter miles away. “Take it easy,” 
anotlicr said. “If he‘s not dead, W'e 
don’t want to kill him now.” The 
driver slowed to 6o — half top speed. 

Blood and Roses. The dash to 
the emergency entrance of the hos- 
pital took nine minutes. When the 
car pulled up, the President lay un- 
conscious on his biick, his head 
cradled in Mrs. Kennedy’s lap, his 
blood spattering her strawberry 
wo^il suit. On the floor, three 
twisted red roacs and a ragged bou- 
quet of asters lav in pool of blood. 

Mrs. Kennedy helped agents and 
hospital attendants to put the Presi- 
dent on a strekhcr. Tearless and 
numb, she walked .it his side, eling- 
ing to him, as he w«is carried on to 
the loading do:k. C'dose behind, on 
another stretehcr, came Camnally. 

Kennedy was wheeled into Emer- 
gency Room One— a windowlcss, 
grey-tiled cubicle banked with cabi- 
nets and spidery rnedual equipment 
— and placed gingerly on a stark 
operating Mblc, its black leather pad 
covered with a white sterile slip. 
Outside, Mrs. Kennedy stood be- 
tween the Johnsons, holding their 
26 


January 

hands, waiting. Aides and Congress- 
men wandered aimlessly about. 

Fevered Race. The first doctors 
to glimpse the President knew it 
was too late. One bullet had laid 
open the back of his head with bone- 
crushing force, burrowing with a 
wake of skull fragments into his 
brain. Another — or perhaps the 
same bullet — ripped his throat just 
below the Adam’s apple. “Medically 
speaking,” said one doctor, “he was 
dead when he was hit . . . He had 
a lethal wound ... It was apparent, 
medically, that he eould not re- 
cover.” 

On the table, he drew one sharp 
breath and then his body lay still. 
Nevertheless, some ten doctors in 
Parkland’s emergency room went to 
work to try to revive the President. 
First, Dr. James Carrico inserted an 
oxygen tube into the President’s 
mouth, but because of the neck 
wound, the life-sustaining oxygen 
wasn’t getting through. 

Dr. Malcolm Perry dashed in 
from the calcicria. The surgeon 
pulled on rubber glr>vts and — with- 
out stopping to scrub up or put on a 
surgical gown — performed a trach- 
eotomy, splitting the windpipe at 
the wound and placing the oxygen 
tube in the throat, (3lhcr doctors 
gave the President transfu.sions 
of whole blood (O negative, the 

‘universal donor” type). 

Mrs. Kennedy had slipped into 
the room; Perry giimpsed her over 
his shoulder as he worked. ‘ She 
wouldn’t leave,” he said. “She’s a 



fVHY lOHN KENNEDY DIED 


1964 

real thoroughbred. She stayed with 
him all the time.” 

The doctors sensed that blood and 
air were accumulating m the Presi- 
dent’s chest cavity. Perry then 
performed a closed-chest drainage: 
another tube was pl.iccd between the 
ribs to keej) the chest area free of 
iluids and air so that the lungs would 
not collapse. Hut no breath came. 

Finally, standing on a stool for 
leverage. Perry began kneading 
Kennedy’s breastbone from the out- 
side- -a desperate effort to get the 
heart muscles working and blood 
coursing again. When Parkland’s 
thief neurosurgeon. Dr. Kemp 
C'l.irk, arrived, an electrocardio- 
graph machine was hooked up to 
keep track of the heartbeat. C'Lrk 
waichcd the graph paper from the 
machine for a few minutes, then 
turned to Perry and said : “It’s too 
late, Mac.” Dr. Marion lenkins, 
monitoring the oxygen equipment, 
pulled a while sheet across the body. 

In the feverish attempt to revive 
the President, nobody noticed the 
Jock, (llark arbitrarily set the time 
of death it i p.m. -30 minutes 
after the shooting. 

At 12.57 P-^- Dallas Roman 
('aiholic priests, the Very Rev. 
Oscar Huber and the Rev. James 
Thompson, were summoned to the 
President’s side. Father Huber drew 
hack the sheet from the President’s 
face, and with a thumb dipped in 
holy oils traced a small sign of the 
cross on Kennedy’s forehead. In 
Latin he intoned, “I absolve you 


from all censures and sins in the 
name of the Father, and of the Stm 
and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. If 
you arc living, may the Lord by this 
Holy Anointing forgivp whatever 
you have sinned . . .” 

The Last Word. Newsmen waited 
in a nurses' classroom for official 
word. At 1.33 p.m., assistant White 
House press secretary Malcolm 
KildufT pushed into the room, a 
piece of nolepaper in (jne h.md and 
an unlit cigarette in the other. Red- 
eved and tremulous, he read • 
“President John F. Kennedv died 
at approximately 1 p.m. central 
standard time, today here in Dallas. 
He died of a gunshot wound in the 
brain.” 

“Oh (iod,” someone choked. 
And then reporters dashed for the 
phones. 

Meanwhile, a dark bronze coffin 
was wheeled into Emergency Room 
One, as Mrs. Kennedy wailed w'ith 
her dead husband. There, the First 
Lady kissed her husband’s Iireless 
lips, slipped the ring from her fin- 
ger, and placed it on his. 

As the coffin was wheeled out, 
Mrs. Kennedy walked beside it, her 
pillbox hat missing, her hair tan- 
gled, her suit bloodied, her hand 
resting gently o;i the coffin as it 
rolled towards the white heaise. 
Then, declining to ride with the 
driver, she sat in the back beside her 
husband's body. 

The Oath. What counted most 
now was the continuity of Ciov- 
ernmenf, the constitutional rite 

27 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


reuniting the abruptly broken past 
with the uncertain future. 

The constitution dictated that the 
mantle of the Presidency pass to the 
Vice-President, to the towering, 
folksy, [loliticaliy wise Texan who 
had seemed so unlikely a running 
mate for Kennedv in i960— and yet-, 
only the previous month, had won 
the President’s public endorsement 
for the 1964 ticket. 

Ahead of the hearse, Lvnd(ni 
Baines )ohnson--iinder heavy guard 
—sped unannounced back to Lcne 
Field, climbed aboard Air Force 
One, and stepped into the 12- In 15- 
foot Presidential conference rtKjm. 
The Federal judge who w(»uld 
swear him in— Ins old friend Sarah 
Hughes, a tin\ woman of bj — had 
been summoned. 

At 2,18 p.m., the hearse drew up 
and the colfin was earned up the 
rear ramp, Mrs. Kennedy still close 
behind. The gold-uphcdstered con- 
ference room was already crowded 
and sweltering after three hours in 
the hot Dallas sun. Larry O’Brien, 
Kennedy’s legislative liaison man, 
handed Johnson the small, leather 
bound Bible which the former Presi- 
dent had kept in his aft sleeping 
compartment. Mrs. Johnson look a 
place at her husband’s right elbow, 
Mrs. Kenned) at Johnson’s left 
Among the 27 spectators behind 
them was Admiral (icorgr Burkley, 
Kennedy’s personal physician, his 
shirt cutTs still bloodstained. 

Her words barely audible above 


the whine of the fan-jcl engines, 
Judge Hughes read the oath : 

“I do solemnly swear that I will 
faithfully execute the office of the 
President of the United States, and 
will to the best of my ability pre- 
serve, protect and defend the (Con- 
stitution of the United States.” 

Softly, the new President repeated 
the words, adding at the close : “So 
help me (Jod.” He Inrnctl to his 
wife and kissed her on the forehead. 
Mrs. Johnson took Mis. Kennedy’s 
hand in her.s and told her, “The 
whole nation mourns your hus- 
band.” Johnson clasped her hand, 
too. 

“GexJ bless you, little lady,” 
Dallas Police Chief J. H. Curry told 
her, “but you ought to go back and 
lie down.” 

“No, thanks, I’m fine,” Mrs. 
Kennedy said, mustering a faint 
smile. Moments later she left to take 
up her seat beside her husb.md's 
coffin once more. 

First Orders. At 2.41 p.m. John 
son gave his first order as President : 
“Now let’s gel airborne.” As the 
jet roared aloft and headed home to 
Washington at 635 miles per hour, 
he set to work composing a state 
ment: “This is a sad time . . . We 
have suffered a loss that c.mnot be 
weighed. For me it is a deep [per- 
sonal tragedy. I know the world 
shares the sorrow that Mrs. Ken 
nedy and her family bear. I wib do 
my best. That is all I can do. 1 ask 
for your help — and Ciod’s.” 


Con firmed from Newsweek 


28 



There is /lolhing like the 
rluillenf>e of resfonsih/litv 
to bring out the best in hunnin 
nature. A trained observer 
reports on an e.vciting nexv 
dei'elopineni in 
human relations 


\'\\f I I’ac k \ki) 
ittthur (if ‘ i’/ir HidJtn T< f \ri ntci f , 

I hr Stilt ■ I fit ( hnifcis" 


A si.kus ui' slim, OIK storcv 
lKiil(lini>s nc.ir S.in 
('.ilitorni.i, IS tlu home ot 
one ot the iiiost rev<»lurion.ir\ cimi- 
[MiiKs 111 Aiiktk.i. (].illal Non 
l-iiu.ir Sn slims, Iik , the firm 
makes eliLlronu ir. >lrijmenls. It is 
rc\olulioniir\ not heuiiise ot ils pro 
tlikls hill lus.iiisi' of llie athit\c 
ini Ills of Its |)eoplc. M lin e Nc.irs ago 
tills comp.inv ihrew out iis .isscmhK 
liiKS, and with them a h<'M of 
iissumptions whkh husiiussmcn 
have Ik en m. iking tor =;o \ tars about 


the naliiit ot man as .m emph'M'c 

NoiidantMi’s [UTsuleni y\nvlrcvv 
kav, hid st.ikc'd his tomp.m\\s 
fiilurt on the belief that ordinarv 
people ha\e griMl [loieiilialities tor 
growth and will perform tar bettei 
it tilts are trusted with impoitanr 
respcMisil'iihties. Totlav businessmtn 
anti soti.il siientists toiiK* I mm 
maiiv parts of the w»)rltl to witness 
the rem.iik.ible result.^ til this [ihilo 
sophv. 

When Non-Ianear thstartletl its 
asst mbh lines n kept all its pto[)le 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


some with only elementary-school 
education — but divided them up 
into small teams of fewer than a 
deften people. Each team runs its 
own little business. Each has its own 
rooms, for which it decides the 
d&or; Its own door to the outside. 
There arc no time clocks. Everyone 
receives a weeklv salary, with no de- 
ductions for sickness or lateness. 
There arc no scheduled coffee- 
breaks— an\ one can get coffee 
whenever he feels like it. 

In a stroll through the plant’s 
buildings, I watched a unique as- 
sembly team. Non-Linear makes 
digital voltmeters — meters that 
measure electric voltage in terms ol 
numerical digits. All llie compo 
nents for one of these extremely 
complex instruments arrive in a 
fibreglass kit. TypicalK, one person 
assembles the entire soltmeter from 
start to finish. It m.iy lake three 
weeks If there is a c.ill for (|Uick 
delivery, tw'o or three others in 
the grou[) oi seven will pitch in 0) 
help, but the original builder still 
has prime res|)()nsibilitv for its 
perfection. 

A grcy-haircd woman near me 
was smoking as she bu.sil) laid out 
a pattern of wire circuiis. (Ijfieiencv 
engineers would forbid smoking on 
the j('b.) Pro[)ped up in front (rf her 
were several pages of diagrams and 
notes. “This woman has done all 
her owT. planning and program- 
ming,” my guide said. “She tests as 
she goes along. When she finishes 
this instrument she will sign her 
30 


January 

name to it. If a customer develops 
trouble with it, the instrument will 
come back to her for correction.” 

At Non-Linear, anv project man- 
ager in engineering can spend up to 
2,500 dollars (Rs. ]2,o(X)) for a piece 
of needed equipment, simply on his 
own signature. The salesmen submit 
no expense accounts Each is given 
an expense allowance large enough 
to cover all reasonable travel, car ex- 
penses, lodging, entertaining, and 
to [x:rmit him to replace his car 
cverv two years. If he can get by on 
less, he IS free to pocket the savings. 
The only check is on results. 

W'hat have been the results^ Sales 
have doubled in the three \ears that 
the new [irogramine has been in 
force, and the man-hours dc\oted to 
building each instrument h.ive been 
cut in half— enabling Non-Linear to 
oiler the highest pay in the commu 
nity. “ElTicicncv is wav up,” says 
vice-president Arthur Kuril*)!!. 
“Morale is excellent; our labour 
turnover is down to a quarter of the 
national avcr.ige. Caimjilaints from 
customers have dropped ()o per 
cent.” Although Non-Linear now 
has 30 competitors, it has more 
than half the entire market -pi^oof 
of the high quality of its product. 

I’he wonders th.it follow^ when 
working [leople are suddenly given 
responsibility ha\e been further 
documented in a series of experi- 
ments at another large company 
with thousands of employees. Be- 
cause the experiments arc still in 
[irogress the company cannot be 



A CHANCE FOR EVERYONE TO GROW 


1964 

named. But the man who has 
sparked several of them is Dr. Chris 
Argyris, a behavioural scientist at 
Yale University’s Department of 
Industrial Administration. 

The company president, intrigued 
by Dr. Argyris’ assertion that the 
average employee works at only 
about one-third of his productive 
capacity, challenged the professor to 
show him a better way to motivate 
his workers. Together they went 
into a plant where a product com- 
parable to a radio was being assem- 
bled. At one table were 12 girls. 
Each giri, in performing her allotted 
segment of the assembly, executed 
a senes of actions in accordance 
with detailed instructions worked 
out b\ an industrial engineer. This 
unit also had a foreman, an inspec- 
tor and a packer. 

Dr. Argyris proposed a one-year 
experiment during which each girl 
would be made responsible hir as 
sembling the entire product, and 
would do It in any way she decided 
was best for her. She was to handle 
all inspecting, sign her name to the 
product, pack it, and handle any 
correspondeiiLC made necessary by 
complaints about it. The girls were 
promised they would suffer no cut 
in pay if production fell oil, but 
would receive increased pav if pro- 
duction rose. 

I’hc experiment began. Bv the 
end ot the first month this unit’s 
output was down to only 30 per cent 
of Its former level. By the end of six 
weeks it was even worse. Morale 


among the girls was low ; some were 
visibly upset. This situation contin- 
ued to the end of the eighth week. 
Then the output started up. By tRe 
15th week it was higher than it 
had ever been before — without the 
help of inspector, packer, foreman 
or industrial engineer! Output re- 
mained high throughout the year. 
Costs due to errors and waste 
dropped 94 per cent. Letters of com- 
plaint dropped from 75 a year to 
only three. 

At the end of the one-year period 
the 12 girls returned to their regular 
assembly-line jobs. Three of the 
girls were relieved to be able to stop 
worrying about the quality of their 
work — but the other nine were 
vexed by the loss of resfxmsibihty. 

When the company’s other experi- 
ments in designing more responsi- 
bility into jobs are completed, it 
hopes to combine all the results into 
the design of an exciting new fac- 
tory. Dr. Argyris predicts u will be 
a factory without foremen. 

A number of other companies are 
also experimenting with broaden- 
ing individual responsibility. At 
Union Carbide headquarters in 
New York City, a taskforce has been 
created, managed by a husky, genial 
executive named John Paul Jones. 
One of its objectives is to loosen up 
the traditional patterns of superior- 
subordinate relationships in the vast 
(73,000 employees) company. The 
hope is to make the most of the ex- 
plosion of creativity that can comt 
when people are challenged. 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


This task force for Organiz-ation 
Development is itself a good exam- 
ple of the practice it preaches. Jones 
afld each of his staff associates has 
an area of prime accountability 
within which he has absolute re- 
sponsibility for decisions, including 
spending his share of the budget. 

Making each individual account- 
able ob\ioiislv involves an element 
of risk. )ones’s answer; “Risk is 
good. Some performances m.iy be 
poor — but voii Ctin't have it both 
wavs. If \ou set up a system that 
makes it dilhcull for people to fail, 
it will be too tight to let the good 
ones gn)W' as last as the\ can.” 

'riiese .ind other experiments and 
innovations in management practice 
all seek to li.ill a trend in nvjdern 
industry . as businesses h.ive grown 
both in technol()gN .nu! si/e, iruliis- 
tri il planners have built into them 
more and more controls over people. 
Thev have “striu lured" the wav 
jobs are to be done, often simplifv- 
ing the job down to the smallest 
possible number of repetitive 
motions. 

Such controlling and narrowing 
depersonalizes the work, ancf in- 
suits the w'orkei bv makmg of him 
an interchangeable [lart. 

Some employees, including man- 
agers, light back at the .sy.stem that 
leaves them feeling impoverished m 
their lives. They go sloW' or ejuietly 
decide among themselves what will 
constitute a “fair day’s work” 
(voliiiitary rcsinction of oiiiput is 
pr.icti.sed on an enormous scale 
^2 


January 

throughout industry). t)thers learn 
to be indifferent, to work to rule, to 
ask for time off. 

Millions of people have become 
hardened by years of living with 
bureaucratic controls into expect- 
ing little responsibility, even into 
avoiding it, putting emphasis not 
on ambition but on sccuntv. 

The true nature of man is more 
accurately leilected in a recent an- 
alvsis of altitudes of 200 accountants 
and engineers working for ecrlain 
companies in the Pittsburgh region.* 
'rhe studv w.is made by a team of 
psycliologists led by Di. l‘Vcderick 
Ilei/bcTg. 'riie 200 subjects were 
asked to dcxscTibe events of their 
careers which caiistcl them to feel 
exceptionally good or bad about 
their job. 

It was found that, of all the major 
plus factors, the thing that {irodueed 
the grealt‘sr long-term satisfaction 
w.is the sense of being given re- 
sponsibility. rhe men s|H)ke proud- 
Iv of being allowed to woik without 
supervision, being held rcspiiiisible 
for their own elToris. In their final 
report, the psvc hologists proposed 
lh.it jobs be reshaped to increase “to 
the m.i\imum‘' the ability of each 
emplovec to achieve some personal 
fulfilment of his own potentialities, 
some personal growth in responsi- 
bility. 

Of course, a good many situations 
exist where it is (hnicult to bestow 
much re.il responsibility upon an 
employee. Still, there arc always 
ways to th.illengc him more fully, 



A CHANCE FOR EVERYONE TO GROW 


ig 64 


ways that will produce benefits for 
both him and the company. 

The United States Steel Corpora- 
tion, for example, wanted to reduce 
serious accidents in its mills. Com- 
pany officials had gone to great 
lengths, using all the conventional 
safety techniques without much 
result. 

In a new approach, the officials 
started asking the men themselves 
what should be done. At the South 
Chicago plant, which had one of the 
higher accident rates in the steel- 
producing plants of the company, 
they started calling a few men at a 
time into a conference room. The 
safety co-ordinator invited each man 
to analyse his job in detail and to 
suggest how it could be made safer. 
I sat in on one conference and w^as 
impressed by the variety and sound- 
ness of the ideas brought forward. 


The conclusions developed by the 
men at these conferences went be- 
fore a safety review board and were 
usually adopted. Two years a^tcr 
the South Chicago plant began these 
small forums, its accident rate was 
one of the best ever achieved by any 
major steel plant in the United 
States up to that date. Now the con- 
ference approach has spread to some 
other U.S. Steel plants. And— the 
biggest surprise — wherever em- 
ployees have been consulted, morale 
has usually shown a distinct rise, 
and production, too. 

The feelings that come from ex- 
periencing responsibility on the job 
were most eloquently summed up 
by the Herzberg group of psychol- 
ogists. “Having the opportunity to 
grow,” they stated, “is still the most 
exciting thing that can happen to 
someone in our society." 


Grave Misgivings 

In the cemetery in Great Grimsby, Lincolnshire, a tombstone carries 
the following message ; ‘*Owcn Moore Has Gone Away (^win* More 
Than He Could Pay.” The tombstone was erected by his creditors. 

— ^Thomas Lahey 

In a cemetery in Orleans, France, there was an epitaph: “Here lies 
luliettc Lcgrand, wife of a bookkeeper.” As Monsieur -Legrand rose in 
his job he wanted his late wife to share in his promotion. The epitaph 
now reads: “Here lies Juliette Legrand, wife ot an assistant manager.” 

— Stutiginter Zeitung, Germany 

At Falmouth Forcsidc, Maine, on the tomb.stone of a woman who for 
nearly 70 years had sponsored dozens of laudable community enterprises, 
IS the simple epitaph : “She averaged well for these parts.”— Edward Weeks 



Watch 

Your 

Languagel-II 

By Theodore Bernstein 


Can you spot the misused word in this sentence: “After a series of 
Jits and starts the market eked out a gain"? For years Theodore 
Bernstein, Assistant Managing Editor of the New York Times, has 
campaigned for better writing in that already excellent nezvspaper. 
One of his methods is to comment on errors in the paper in a peppery 
house organ called “JVinners 6 ? Sinners.” Nozv his comments haz'e 
been collected in two books. Last August The Reader’s Digest published 
a selection from the first book “fVatch that Wordl” ; here are extracts 
from the second. And xvhat did Beinstein find xvrong with that 
sentence about the market? See his remarks about "eke" on page 35. 


Amid, among. "Firemen groped 
among the wreckage." 

“Among ’ means in the midst of 
countable things. When the things 
are not separable, the word is 
“amid” or “amidst.” 

As well as. "He, as well as the pro- 
ducer, are Broadway newcomers.’’ 

“As well as” is a subordinating, 
not a co-ordinating, conjunction; it 
is not the equivalent of “and.” 


Therefore, its presence dixrs not 
make the subject plural. The sen- 
tence should read, “. . . is a Bro.id- 
way newcomer.” 

Circle. "Thousands had circled 
round the bier." 

Strike out “round.” 

Climax. "The drop in popularity oj 
the larger engine reached its climax 
last September." 

"Climax,” which comes from a 





WATCH YOUR LANGUAGE!--!! 


Greek word meaning ladder, refers 
to an ascending series. A low point 
cannot be a climax. 

Conclave. Secret Conclave Winds 
Up Discussion,*' 

The word “conclave” (based on 
the Latin “clavis,” meaning key) 
originally referred to a room that 
could be locked, and now means a 
secret or private meeting. “Secret’ 
IS redundant; therefore omit it. 
Convince. Three people tried to 
convince her to tal^e her seat on the 
plane.” 

“Persuade” would be the proper 
word jn this construction. “C>on- 
vincc” may be followed by an “of” 
phrase or a “that” clause, but not by 
a “to” infinitive. “(Convince” has 
the meaning of satisfy beyond doubt 
by appealing to reason. “Persuade” 
has the meaning of inducing or win- 
ning over by appealing to reason 
and feeling. 

Eke. After a series of fits and starts 
the market el{ed out a gam,” 

“Eke” has Anglo-Saxon roots 
meaning to increase or add. When 
\oii eke something out, you add to 
11 or supplement it. What is eked 
out IS not the thing that results but 
the original stock or supply. In 
.short, “eke out” docs not mean 
“squeeze out,” as the quoted sen- 
tence suggests. 

End result. end result of 

^^gregation and lac^ of compulsory 
education for Africans . . 

An end result is conceivable in 
the working out of a mathe- 
matical problem in which there arc 


intermediate results, but in every- 
day English an end result is simply 
a result. 

In terms of. The phrase “in term^ 
of” has a fine, learned sound. But 
usually It signifies nothing. “He 
could not have been thinking in 
terms of the job he was to take.” 
What is meant here is "about the 
job.” 

Into. "He dived in the river and 
swam in the direction of the 
woman,” 

If he dived in the river, he was 
already in the water before he per- 
formed the action; “in” denotes 
merely position. The required word 
here is “into.” 

Mutual. "Their mutual interest in 
guns has provided an informal 
means of instructing youngsters,” 

“Mutual” has the connotation of 
reciprocal : If Jones respects Smith 
and Smith respects Jones they have a 
mutual respect. However, if Jones 
and Smith arc both interested in 
guns, that is not a mutual but a 
common interest. 

Podium. "President Ayuh gripped 
the podium as he amweied ques- 
tions.” 

Toehold? A podium is a platform 
or dais that you stand on or sit on. 
Therefore you do not grip it. as you 
would a lectern. , 

Reiterate. “Dr. Erode reiterated the 
suggestion he made last December.” 

“Iterate,” which is not in general 
use, means to say or do a second 
time or often; “reiterate” means, 
thcr»*fore, to say or do over and over 

35 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


again. “Repeat” or “restate” is the 
better word for a first echo. 
Repulse. ''Some students are re- 
pished by the thought of running 
into debt for an education,*' 

To be repulsed is to be beaten or 
driven back. The desired word is 
“repelled,” which conveys the idea 
of' aversion. 


Trove. Pre-Inca Trove Is Found 
in Peru,** 

Do you know what a trove is? It’s 
something that is found. 

Via. **Attac\ would entail simul- 
taneous delivery, via missiles or 
bombers, of nuclear weapons,” 

“Via” means by way of (in a geo- 
graphical sense), not by means of. 


AH Good Wishes 

The New Year is at the door. I wish for the stupid a little understand- 
ing, and for the understanding a little poetry. I wish a heart for the rich, 
and a little bread for the poor. But, above all, I wish that we may black- 
guard each other as little as possible during the New Year. 

— ^Heinrich Heine 


Rising to the Occasion 

The chairman introduced the speaker with great fervour, stressing 
her years of faithful service to the club and eulogizing her ability and 
charm. Somewhat overwhelmed, the speaker faced the audience. 

“After such an introduction,” she said disarmingly, “I can hardly wait 
to hear what Tm going to say.” —a. h. h 

After-dinner speaker’s remark: “Now b'^fore I start I want to say 
something.” 

One of the major embarrassments to which lecturers are submitted is 
the audience’s looking at their watches. I once asked best-selling novelist 
John Erskine if he found the ordeal particularly trying. 

“No,” he replied, “not until they start shaking them I” 

— Frank Crowninshield m Vogut 

A GUEST of honour is a man who eats a meal he doesn’t want so that 
he can get up and tell a lot of stories he doesn’t remember to people 
who’ve already heard them. — G. j. 



New 
Tickers 
for Weak 
Hearts 


'4 








ft;'"- 




! %** 



Several thousatid people are 
walking about today with a small 
timer embedded in their bodies. 
This is the electronic pacemaker, a 
lifesaving triumph of modern 
surgery and technology 


\ YEAR ago a 46-ycar-old woman 
wc will call Agnes Gentry 
. suddenly fainted. She 
thought litde of it at the time, but 
then the fainting spells began com- 
ing with frightening frequency. 
Once she blacked out and tumbled 
down a flight of stairs. 

Sensing that her heart was beat- 
ing very slowly, she pressed fingers 
to her wrist and counted : only 20 


By J. D. Ratcliff 

pulse beats a minute. Soon she no 
longer had the energy to drag 
through a fuzzy, slow-modon life, 
and took to her bed. At times her 
heart stopped- beating entirely for 
20 seconds or more. “When I went 
to sleep, I never knew whether I 
would wake up,’’ she says. 

Mrs. Gentry was a victim of heart 
block, a terrifying disorder in which 
the electrical impulses responsible 

37 



THE READERS DIGEST 


for the timing of the heartbeat falter 
or fail in transmission. Mrs. Gentry 
thus became a candidate for an 
extraordinary new operation — one 
which saved her life. 

An electrical timing device no 
larger than a railway guard’s watch 
was actually implanted in her body 
and wired to her heart. Almost in- 
stantly the beat became steady, de- 
pendable. 

‘The fog cleared from my 
mind,” she says. “I do my shopping 
and housekeeping, lead a reason- 
ably active life, and feel fine!” 

Mrs. Gentry’s case is representa- 
tive of several thousand patients of 
all ages who have, in effect, had 
their hearts rewired and their lives 
renewed. 

In a motor-car engine, a device 
called the distributor fires the cylin- 
ders in orderly sequence. In the 
normal heart, a small network of 
fibres called the pacemaker, at the 
top of the right auricle, does much 
the same thing. It shoots out a 
rhythmic pulse of electricity 70 to 
80 times a minute. This “fires” the 
auricles or upper chambers of the 
heart, causing them to contract. 
Then, after a split-second tag, the 
whisper of electricity is passed along 
to the Bundle of His (pronounced 
hissV a minute collection of nerve 
and mucle fibres named after Ger- 
man physiologist Wilhelm His. 
From here the electrical discharge 
spreads to contract the ventricles, 
which do most of the work of 
pumping blood to the arteries. 


January 

Miraculous and tough as the 
wiring system is, disease, drugs and 
heart attacks can damage the 
Bundle of His. Sometimes, when a 
clot blocks a coronary artery, scar 
tissue forms which may invade the 
vital bundle. It can also be injured 
during heart surgery. Tiny, hidden 
from the surgeon’s eyes, it can be 
destroyed by sutures despite the 
most elaborate precautions. 

With this crucial electrical relay 
station damaged or destroyed, the 
heart, like a faulty car engine, be- 
gins “missing.” Ventricles may 
begin functioning of their own ac- 
cord, but out of time with the 
auricles. If the disparity is mild, the 
effect of such heart block may be 
minimal. At other times the ventri- 
cles may go into fibrillation, flutter- 
ing Mildly and pumping little or no 
blood. 

The beat may speed up or, more 
frequently, slow down — to 20 or 30 
contractions per minute. At this 
level, kidneys get insufficient blood, 
and fluids accumulate in tissues. 
The brain, too, is starved of oxygen 
and operates in slow motion. In 
severe cases the heart stops inter- 
mittently, for perhaps several 
minutes. Fainting is common. One 
patient kept a log of his blackouts : 
842 in II months. Another victim 
fainted and fell so often that he 
wore a crash helmet for protection. 

The outlook for patients with 
electrically out-of-kilter hearts has 
always been grim. One study found 
that half the severely stricken died 



NEW TICKERS FOR WEAK HEARTS 


1964 

within three months, despite treat- 
ment with various stimulants. Hope 
for these patients began to dawn in 
1952 when Dr. Paul Zoll of Boston’s 
Beth Israel Hospital developed an 
artificial pacemaker, an external 
one, which sent sharp jolts of elec- 
tricity through the chest wall to the 
heart. But ZoH’s pacemaker had 
severe drawbacks. With each shock, 
chest muscles went into rigid con- 
traction. Burns were frequent, and 
many patients were terrified of the 
closely-spaced shocks. 

Meanwhile, Dr. C. Walton Lille- 
hei, professor of surgery at the 
University of Minnesota School of 
Medicine, had been troubled by the 
frequency of heart block after 
otherwise successful open-heart sur- 
gery. Thinking of patients doomed 
to die from faulty heart action, he 
had an idea : why not rewire their 
hearts — ^by hooking electrodes to 
them, stringing wires to the outside 
of the body, to an external pace- 
maker? With the direct connexion, 
rhythmic impulses of only three or 
tour volts should be sufficient to pro- 
duce a dependable beat. 

In j()57 Dr. Lillehei began install- 
ing his life-saving wires. But here 
again there were difficulties. Infec- 
tion could occur where wires came 
through the skin, and the external 
pacers were a problem during bath- 
ing and exercise. 

About this time several groups 
began thinking in radical new 
terms. Among the leaders: Dr. Wil- 
liam Chardack, chief of surgical 


service at the Veterans Hospital, 
Buffalo, New York; Dr. Ake 
Senning of Stockholm’s Karolinska 
Institute; Dr. Adrian Kantrowjtz of 
Brooklyn’s Maimonides Hospital; 
Dr. Zoll in Boston. Why not a pace- 
maker, equipped with long-lasting 
batteries, which could be implanted 
in the body? Such a pacer would in 
effect become a new body organ. 
Obviously it had to be totally reli- 
able, and completely watertight, so 
that body fluids would not cause 
short circuits. And it had to be tiny, 
so as to cause no discomfort. 

Experts went to work. Wilson 
Grcatbatch, an electronics consul- 
tant collaborating with Dr. Char- 
dack, started in April 1958 in the 
garage laboratory behind his home 
—and had his initial model ready 
in ten days. Resistors, condensers, 
transistors, minute mercury batteries 
were all squeezed into a five-ounce 
plastic package. 

Dr. Chardack and his associates 
anaesthetized a dog, opened its 
heart and strangled the Bundle of 
His with sutures. The electrocardio- 
graph pattern dancing across the 
screen of an oscilloscope (much like 
a television screen) went into the 
characteristic pattern of complete 
heart block. Then stainless-steel 
electrodes from Greatbatch’s pace- 
maker were hooked into the left 
ventricle wall. When the pacemaker 
was switched on, the dog’s heart 
settled into a normal pattern. The 
pacer was working ! But how long 
would such a device work? This 

39 



THE READER’S DIGEST 


first model failed after a few days, 
and two years passed before the 
pacer looked reliable enough for 
human trials. 

On April 15, i960, a chance came; 
a patient in desperate need was at 
hand — a 77-year-old man who for 
a year had suffered blackouts with 
increasing frequency. In one, he had 
fallen and fractured his skull. Life 
for him could be measured in a few 
tear-laden months. Dr. Chardack 
decided to install a pacemaker. 

The immediate response was eye- 
opening. Drowsiness, fatigue and 
chest pain disappeared; mental 
alertness returned. The patient was 
able to resume activities normal for 
his age : gardening, walking, a 
quiet social life. For two and a half 
years the pacer performed faith- 
hilly, until the tired old heart gave 
out. “The pacemaker," observes Dr. 
Chardack, "is not a new heart. It is 
merely a new electrical system; the 
motor remains the same." 

Dozens of patients now began 
getting implanted pacemakers. A 
middle-aged man was restored suffi- 
ciently by a pacer to return to work 
in a steel mill. An i8-month-old 
baby was given one, and is alive 
today as a result. 

Difficulties inevitably arose. Ini- 
tial calculations that batteries would 
last five years proved optimistic. 
Most surgeons now replace them 
after three years. This involves only 
minor surgery performed under 
local anaesthesia. 

Because the wires implanted in 
40 


January 

the heart flex with each heartbeat— 
60 times a minute, 84,000 times a 
day— breakages occurred. Many 
early patients required a second 
chest operation to implant new 
electrodes. But this problem appears 
to have been solved by sturdier 
wires and improved means of im- 
plantation. 

Surgical techniques for implant- 
ing a pacer vary. In one widely-used 
operation the chest is opened be- 
tween the fourth and fifth ribs. The 
left lung is then collapsed and 
pushed aside, exposing me heart. 
Next, a small incision is made in the 
abdomen and from it, via a tunnel 
underneath the skin, wires are 
snaked upward to the heart. Elec- 
trodes are then stitched into the 
ventricle wall. In a few weeks scar 
tissue will seal them tightly into 
place. In the final step an abdominal 
pocket is made to hold the pace- 
maker. Then all wounds are closed. 
The surgery takes an hour to an 
hour and a half; ten to 14 days later 
the patient is ready to go home. 

As the heart settles into an even 
rhythm and blackouts cease, the 
patient’s oppressive fears vanish. "I 
have seen few people so grateful or 
so completely rehabilitated as those 
who have been given heart pacers,” 
says Dr. Chardack, Indeed, one of 
the greatest problems is to restrain 
such patients. They often forget 
that they sdll have severely 
damaged hearts. 

Pacers have been implanted in 
heart-block patients both in Britain 



NEW TICKERS FOR WEAK HEARTS 


1964 

and on the Continent. The work of 
Britain’s pacemaker pioneers — ^the 
cardiac team at St. George’s Hos- 
pital, London — was watched by 
millions in the BBC-Television 
programme “Your Life in Their 
Hands’’ last April. One of the 75 
whose lives have been transformed 
by a St. George’s pacemaker is 59- 
year-old George Prevost, whose 
heart trouble began nine years ago 
after a traffic accident in Fleet 
Street. His pulse rate dropped to 18 
and one blackout merged into 
another. Last February a pacemaker 
was implanted in the tissues of his 
anterior abdominal wall. Within a 
fortnight, this small determined 
man, known at St. George’s as “the 
tough litde guy,’’ was out of hos- 
pital. He has since returned to his 
work on the staff of The Sunday 
Telegraph. 

Recent strides in pacer technology 
have been enormous. In America, 
General Electric, working with Dr. 
Kantrowitz and the Maimonides 
Hospital group, has produced a 
pacer whose rate can be adjusted 
from the outside. A frequency emit- 
ter is placed against the skin, over 
the implanted pacer. A dial can then 
set the heart-beat at any desired level 
between 60 and 120. Some users 
slow their hearts on going to bed, 
step up the pace on rising. One 
woman, a devoted cyclist, likes a 


HE NICE thing about a gift of 
easily exchanged. 


beat of 80 while on her bike. Some 
like a faster clip for parties or 
business engagements. 

In prospect is a striking devejpp- 
ment— the batteryless pacer, using 
the body’s own electrical output for 
power. Physicists have long known 
that electrodes of dissimilar metals 
immersed in conducting fluid will 
pick up a feeble electric current. 
Working with rats, General Electric 
researchers placed one electrbde in 
the abdominal cavity, another under 
the skin — and picked up enough 
power to run a small radio trans- 
mitter ! The same idea, they think, 
may soon be used to eliminate the 
need for batteries in pacers. 

Since all body activity is partly 
electrical in nature, extensions of the 
pacer idea are almost limitless. Says 
Dr. Kantrowitz: “The integration 
of electronic circuits as functioning 
permanent parts of human beings is 
going to be a very important field in 
the next ten years.’’ There is, for ex- 
ample, a prospect of using rhythmic 
electrical stimulation to activate par- 
alysed muscles — perhaps freeing 
some people from iron lungs, en- 
abling others with paralysed legs to 
walk. 

The extraordinary advances in 
providing a new ignition system 
for ailing hearts will almost certain- 
ly be dwarfed by the applications of 
pacer technology that lie just ahead. 


money for Christmas is that it’s so 

—Arnold Glaaow 




Painted 

* 

in Darkness 

The remarkable story of an artist 
who (lid not discover his talent until 
he had ^one totally blind 

H\ C . W. E. Jordan with Artihir C5ordon 

O NE (.REY October morning, Then 1 went 
six years ago, 1 was King down into a pit 
in bed reading. Suddenly of misery, 
inside my head there was a bril- All my life I 
liant flash. I'he book I was read- had prided m\- 
ing disappeared. The room itself self on my indc- 
disappeared. I found myself in a pciidcnce. Now 
cage of darkness. it was gone. My 

I should have been prepared for work, as travrl- 
this. (Jlauroma had already taken ling auditor for ,7«»(/an 

the sight of one eye,, and doctors had a chain of hotcLv was gone At (> 2 , 
warned me that the other eye was with no close relatives, no estab- 
affected. But I had the irratiomd lished home, I was alone, lost in 
feeling that if 1 simply ignored it, impenetrable blackness, 
the grim thing that was stalking me For weeks, time stood still, 
would never strike. Mands touched me, voices spoke. 

All the way to hospital I kept tell- but they seemed far-ofi, unreal, 
tng myself it was just a momentary Sometimes I would sit motionless 
blackout. 1 clung desperately to this for hours, silent as a stone, 
hope until doctors took !r away. When the time came for me to 

43 




THE READER’S DIGEST 


leave hospital, I was terrified. There 
would be a small pension, but other- 
wise 1 had no funds, nowhere to 
go* I was living in a litde town in 
West Virginia where 1 scarcely 
knew anyone. In the end I decided 
to go back to Savannah, in Georgia, 
a. town where I had once lived and 
had a few friends. 

In Savannah a small miracle hap- 
pened. I thought I might try to do 
some writing, and so I advertised 
for a part-time secretary. I explained 
in the advertisement that I was 
blind and could pay very litde. Even 
so, there were 40 applicants for the 
job. I chose the one with the gentlest 
voice; her name was Dorothy. At 
Erst, I’m sure, she simply pided me. 
But pity turned to love. In time, we 
were married. 

So I was alone no longer. Even so, 
there were moments when I felt that 
1 had simply dragged Dottle down 
to my own private hell. My attempts 
to write were a failure; the black 
emptiness behind my eyes seemed to 
confuse my brain and sometimes 
when Dottie tried to comfort me I 
would lash out at her. 

One day, after such an episode, 
she said patiently, “I’m going out 
for a while. Here’s a pad and pen- 
cil; perhaps you’ll feel like trying 
t( make some notes.’’ 

When she was gone, I sat there 
wondering what I could do to make 
amends. With the pencil I made a 
mark on the pad and drew my fin- 
gers across it lightly. My fingertips 
were more sensitive, now; I could 
44 


Janmy 

feel the indentation clearly. Too 
bad, I said to myself, that you never 
learned to draw. You could at least 
have tried to sketch something for 

It was true : I had never tried to 
draw or paint in my life. But now I 
remembered an etching I had once 
admired, a tide-water scene with a 
sweep of tawny marshes backed by 
a dark pine forest. Well, I thought, 
it can do no harm to try. 

When Dottie returned and I 
handed her the pad, she was silent. 
“Who did this.?’’ she asked at last. 
When 1 told her, she said in a whis- 
per, “If anyone saw this, they’d say 
you’re not blind I ” 

I began another sketch to show 
her how I had done the first one, 
measuring intervals and marking 
them with my thumbnail, drawing 
lines, tracing the indentations with 
my fingertips, filling in light and 
shade between two fingers laid flat 
against the paper. It was a strange 
thing: as I worked, the darkness 
that imprisoned me was empty no 
longer. I was seeing again, seeing 
with my memory instead of my 
eyes. 

From that moment, 1 began to 
live once more. Day after day I 
worked at my drawing, sustained 
by the thought that perhaps I was 
attempting something unique. I 
made endless mistakes. But each 
one was a challenge, and it is in 
responding to challenge that a man 
knows for certain that he is alive. 

My technique evolved slowly and 



PAINTED IN DARKNESS 


1964 

painfully. First I would concentrate 
on a subject for hours, sometimes 
days, until 1 could ‘*see” the image 
accurately in my mind, in all its de- 
tail and colour. For the basic sketch 
I used an ordinary soft-lead pencil. 
It made a wide line that was easy to 
feel. I always worked from the 
centre outward.s. If I was attempting 
a still life of 
flowers, for c\ 
ample, I might 
centre the first 
flower exactly. 

For landscapes I 
would start off- 
centre with a 
house or a boat 
or a tree, or other 
important object, 
and work out- 
wards from that. 

When the 
drawing was 
finished, I would 
tackle the colour- 
ing. I bought oil- 
base pencils and 
devised a holder 
for them with 
five row's of holc.s, six holes in each 
row. I asked Dorothy to put the 
greens in the first row, the darkest 
shade on the left, next darkest shade 
in the second hole, and so on. In the 
other rows she did the same with 
blues, browns and greys. 

The fifth ' row held miscel- 
laneous other colours needed for 
a particular picture: I memorized 
that row each time. 


I could feel the lines of my draw- 
ing with the tip of the colouring 
pencil, and learned with practice to 
kvoid running over. Also, I could 
tell what colour had been applied 
and where. Different colours, be- 
cause of the pigments they contain, 
have a different feel. (Prussian blue, 
for example, has a harsh, grainy 
texture almost 
like sandpaper, 
while true blue is 
quite smooth.) 

Gradually my 
techniques im- 
proved, but 1 en- 
countered other 
problems. Often 
when I tried to 
choose a subject, 
nothing with the 
necessary vivid- 
ness would occur 
to me. Or the re- 
collection would 
seem faint and 
imperfectly im- 
printed on my 
mind. Why, I 
asked myself, 
had I been so blind before ! was 
blind? At times I wanted to c-ry out 
to everyone who could still see; 
”Use your eyes! Be hungry, be 
alive, reach out for new experience. 
Seize upon the beauty around you; 
keep it with you in your mind; 
never take it for granted!” 

As time went on, I devised tech- 
niques to restore the intensity of my 
memories. Every morning when I 

45 



Trees and flowing water ^ a scene 
recreated by the artist from memon 


THE READER’S DIGEST 

awoke I would lie quietly and com- People came to see what I had 
tnand the past to present itself for done. One man from New York 
review. With all my strength, I tried wanted to buy exclusive rights to all 
, to select and remember images. ' I might produce. 

Thus I brought back the day 1 These last few years have passed 
stood on top of a mountain and quickly. Dottie and I have a son, a 
stared down at the vast tapestry of two-year-old so lively and inquisi- 
countryside, no two fields the same tive that I have to keep my crayons 
colour, no two rivers the same on top of the piano. One day he 
curve. I remembered how a cypress switched them round, and I ended 
swamp looked in the moonlight, up with a forest of purple trees, 
and the white-maned fury of the There are still limitations in my 
Adantic in a north-easter. life, of course. Yet it is a good life 

W’hen I had recaptured enough and I am grateful for it. I’m not a . 
of a scene in my mind, I would try conventionally religious man, but 1 
to put it on paper. can’t help feeling there was a pur- 

I found that on the average it pose behind these last six years — if 
took me about eight or ten hours to only to show that limitations are 
sketch a scene, once 1 had visualized never as final as at first they seen*., 
it clearly, and perhaps twice that They may cause a man to lose heart, 
long to colour it. But on some I lose even the desire to go on. Hut if 
worked for months. Altogether 1 he can just hang on, something in- 
have made over 900 drawings, have side him finally stirs, reaches up- 
sold some, and given many away. wards for new life — and finds it ! 

Small Talk 

A SUBURBAN father, preparing to do some household job, warned his 
little daughter that she might hear some four letter words should he 
hammer his fingers. “I know one of them,” she said. 

The father winced. 

“Help,” she said. -m.t. 

A MAN who works m a magazine's advertising department thinks he 
must have been talking shop too much at home. He took his four- year- 
old daughter on a nature walk, showing her the insects, birds and so on. 

At one point she asked, “Daddy, arc spiders and octopuses put out by 
the same company.?” -Jerome Beatty 

46 



The Scotty Who 
Knew Too Much 


By James Thurber 



S EVERAL summers ago there was 
a Scotty who went to the coun> 
try for J visit. He decided that 
all the farm dogs were cowards, 
because they were afraid of a certain 
animal that had a white stripe down 
its back. “You are a pussycat and 1 
can beat you,” the Scotty said to the 
farm dog who lived in the house 
where the Scotty was staying. “I 
can beat the little animal with the 
white stripe, too. Show him to me.” 
“Don’t you want to ask any ques- 
tions about him?” said the farm 
dog. “No,” said the Scotty. **You 
ask the questions.” 

So the farm dog took the Scotty 
into the woods and showed him the 
white-striped animal and the Scotty 
closed in on him, growling and 
slashing. It was all over in a mo- 
ment and the Scotty lay on his 
back. When he came to, the farm 
dog said, “What happened.?” “He 
threw vitriol,” said the Scotty, “but 
he never laid a glove on me.” 

A few days later the farm dog 
told the ‘Scotty there was another 
animal all the farm dogs were afraid 
of. “Lead me to him,” said the 
Scotty. “I can beat anything that 
doesn’t wear horseshoes.” “Don’t 


you want to ask any questions about 
him?” said the farm dog. “No,” 
said the Scotty. “Just show me 
where he hangs out.” So the farm 
dog led him to a place in the woods 
and pointed out the little animal 
when he came along. “A clown,” 
said the Scotty, “a push-over,” and 
closed in, leading with his left and 
exhibiting some fancy footwork. 

In less than a second the Scotty 
was flat on his back, and when he 
woke up the farm dog was pulling 
quills out of him. “What hap- 
pened?” said the farm dog. “He 
pulled a knife on me,” said the 
Scotty, “but at least I have learnt 
how you fight out here in the coun- 
try, and now I am going to beat you 
up.” So he closed in on the farm 
dog, holding his nose with one front 
paw to ward off the vitriol and 
covering his eyes with the other 
front paw to keep out the knives. 
The Scotty couldn’t sec his opponent 
and he couldn’t smell his opponent 
and he was so badly beaten that he 
had to be taken back to town and 
put in a nursing home. 

Moral: It is better to as\ some 
of the questions than to hnow all 
the answers. 


47 


Eleanor 
Roosevelt, 

My Most 
Unforgettable Character 



By Emma Bucbee 


s oL'R pi.A\E from New York 
droned towards Washington 
JL Jk that December afternoon, I 
sat studying with affectionate won- 
der the tall woman in the adjoining 
seat. Although I had known her for 
several years, I never ceased to be 
amazed at how much she could 
accomplish, even during a flight. 
When we first took off, she had 
been reading some reports. Then 
she chatted animatedly with other 
passengers who had come up to 
greet her. Now she was writing 
busily on some copy paper she had 
borrowed from me. She was Mrs. 
Franklin D. Roosevelt, the First 
Lady of the United States, and I 
48 


was a newspaper reporter assigned 
to cover her activities. 

When we landed at the chilly 
Washington airport I said good-bye, 
planning to take a taxi to an hotel. 

“Emma, dear, I can’t bear to 
think of you all alone in an hotel 
room tonight,” she said suddenly. 
“Why don’t you stay with me?” 

So, my night was spent not in an 
hotel room but in the Rose Suite of 
the White House, with President 
and Mrs. Roosevelt as my host and 
hostess at a week-before-Christmas 
dinner. The impulsive warmth 
and kindness of this spontaneous 
invitation were completely typical 
of Eleanor Roosevelt. She was 


DHAtL nu>|| MUnAlT IT DOUOLAI CHAVDOB 


MY MOST UNFORGETTABLE CHARACTER 


the greatest and At . the same time 
the humblest worhan I have ever 
known. 

A Friend in Washington 

When Mrs. Roosevelt entered 
the White House, she proved to be 
a totally new sort of First Lady. She 
dreaded the stiff social routine 
which the White House imposed on 
Presidents’ wives, and feared it 
would curtail the welfare activities 
she considered so important. “I shall 
not toe the mark,” she declared, in 
a maslcMjiece of understatement. 

She L ^ught a breezy informality 
and bustle of activity to the White 
House. At the Inaugural buffet, the 
President waited his turn to be 
served like anvone else, and Mrs. 
Roosevelt helped with the serving. 
She also horrified one of the staff by 
insisting immediately on operating 
the lift herself. “That just isn’t 
done, Mrs. Roosevelt,” he protested. 

“It IS now,” she said, slipping in 
alone and closing the door. 

During her first day at the White 
House, a woman-reporter colleague 
of mine telephoned and asked for 
Mrs. Roosc\rlt’s secreUiry, Malvina 
Thompson. “Miss Thompson isn’t 
in,” a voice replied. “May I help?” 


Ilmma BroBtF, a staff reporter of the New 
York Herald Tribune for more than half a 
«.entur\, Lovcrcci Mis. Roosevelt's activities 
lor nearly 40 years. She won a 1963 award 
from th'' Newspaper Rejiortcrs Association 
of New York for her moving profile of 
Mrs. Roosevelt the day after her death. 


“Who is that.?” asked the re- 
porter. 

“Mrs. Roosevelt,” was the reply. 

The Startled reporter protested 
that she didn’t want to trouble the 
First Lady, but Mrs. Roo.scvclt in- 
sisted on personally getting her the 
information she wanted. “You may 
call me any time,” she said. 

One of her first innovations on 
entering the White House was to 
hold press conferences--a move thal 
she calculated rightly would create 
jobs for women reporters. After the 
first conference, I mentioned to Mrs. 
Roosevelt that I was being returned 
to my office in New York and there- 
fore, regretfully, would not have a 
chance to sec the upstairs rorims of 
the White House (which the public 
never saw), where future press con- 
ferences were to be held 

“Well, then, come to lunch to- 
morrow, and bring the other New 
York newspaper girls,” she said. “It 
will be my farewell to my first press 
group.” 

The next day she led five of us on 
a tour of the upper rooms. “It is not 
my house. It belongs to the people,” 
she said. “They have a right to 
know about it.” So, we described 
the great house at length in our 
stones the following day. That 
lunch was the turfiing point of my 
career; thereafter I became a specia- 
list in the activities of this amazing 
First Lady. 

Mrs. Roosevelt often took taxis, 
went by underground, or simply 
walked, with her long loping 



THE READER'S DIGEST January 


strides. Occasionally, she even ac- 
cepted a lift from some stranger 
who recognized her. Only in later 
years did she bother with her own 
car and chauffeur. 

She was the despair of the Secret 
Service, but she would not have a 
bodyguard. After President-elect 
Roosevelt narrowly escaped death at 
the hands of an assassin who killed 
Mayor Cermak of Chicago, he 
urged her to accept protection. “No- 
body’s going to shoot me,” she 
scoffed. “Pm not that important.” 
The frustrated Secret Service then 
insisted that she carry a revolver, 
which she grudgingly learned to 
use. However, she usually forgot 
to carry it 

Washington had never seen any- 
thing quite like her energy. She got 
up at dawn, went riding at f) a.m., 
nad breakfast at 7. Hy 7.30 she was 
busy at her desk. She wrote a syndi- 
cated newspaper column and 
articles for magazines. She joined a 
union (the Newspaper Guild). She 
took voice lessons, spoke on the 
radio, lectured (giving the money 
earned to chanty) — all in addition 
to the formal duties of a First Lady. 
She moved about so quickly that 
White House servants .sometimes 
had to trot alongside her to get in a 
word about household plans. 

But no matter how hectic her 
schedule, she always had time for 
little acts of thoughtfulness. She 
worried about us, for instance — the 
corps of women reporters who 
covered her activities. Once when 

50 


Ruby Black, correspondent for 
United Press, fell ill, Mrs. Roosevelt 
immediately noticed her absence 
and asked me where she was. I ex- 
plained. 

“I wonder if Ruby and her family 
would take our house at Campo- 
bello for a vacation.?” she said. 

They did, and Ruby returned re- 
invigorated. 

Another time a small-town 
teacher who was bringing a boy 
crippled by polio to Washington 
wrote asking Mrs. Roosevelt’s ad- 
vice on what to see in the capital. 
Not only did Mrs. Roosevelt arrange 
a special tour of the city, but she put 
the boy up at the White House. 
vSuch episodes multiplied as the 
years went on. “I have never known 
a woman except Mrs. Roosevelt 
whose motives were always pure 
kindness,” White House house- 
keeper Mrs. Henrietta Nc.sbitt said. 

Her day didn’t end when the sun 
went down. Late into the night, 
after everyone else in the White 
House was asleep, she would pore 
over her mail. She received bushels 
of it — in the first year more than 
300,000 pieces It increased as her 
activities broadened, as her visits 10 
hospitals, .schools, migrant labour 
camps and industrial plants in- 
creased. 

“I want people to write to me,” 
she said. “I think it’s important for 
people to feel that in the house 
where the government centres they 
have a friend.” 

A corps of secretaries helped with 



MY MOST UNFORGETTABLE CHARACTER 


1964 


the official letters, but the personal 
ones she answered herself in a loose, 
flowing hand. Critical letters she 
answered as cheerfully and faith- 
fully as admiring ones. Once I met 
her on her return from a train trip 
to St. Louis. “I’ve had the most 
wonderful two days,” she said. “Lve 
had a chance to do all of my personal 
correspondence.” She was as coui- 
teous as that throughout her life. 
When I went to Europe on holiday 
one year, I sent more than 100 post- 
cards to friends. Only one person 
replied by mail — Mrs. Roosevelt. 

‘‘Aren’t You Tired?” 

Perhaps the most incredible dis- 
play of stamina I have ever wit- 
nessed occurred the day Mrs. Roose- 
velt visited Arthurdale, an experi- 
mental farm colony in West 
Virginia designed to help miners in 
the depressed coal industry. 

It was 6.30 a.m. when we climbed 
off the train to be met by the entire 
town, complete w'ith mayor, brass 
band, Boy Scouts, little girls with 
flowers, local bigwigs. Mrs. Roose- 
velt made a gracious speech. She 
made two more speeches before 
breakfast .it the governor’s home. 
Then followed a commencement 
address at the state university under 
a boiling midday sun. Then came 
the inspection of Arthurdale. 

At 6 p.m. we reporters stagger- 
ed on to the return train. But for 
Mrs. Roosevelt there were more wel- 
coming villagers at every wayside 
stop, and more speeches. We were 


exhausted; she was exhilarated. 
“Wasn’t it a wonderful day.?” she 
asked. She had made 13 speeches! 

At 10 p.m. she got up to go to 
her compartment with her secre- 
tary, Malvina Thompson. “This is 
all very pleasant,” she announced, 
“but Tommy and I have work to 
do.” 

“Work * ” we chorused. 

“Oh, yes, we have three articles 
to write.” 

“Aren’t you tired.?” 

“Oh, no,” she said. “I’m never 
tired except when I’m bored.” 

Strangers were invariably sur- 
prised when they met Mrs. Roose- 
velt face to face tor the first time. 
“Why, she’s so much better looking 
than her pictures,” thev always said. 
What the pictures never conveyed 
was the soft colouring of her fair 
hair, her keen, friendly blue eyes, 
the warmth and patience ot her per- 
sonality. 

This patience prevailed even 
when people who disliked President 
Roosevelt attacked him through her. 
Once, in Los Angeles, a man in the 
audience shouted, “Mrs. Roosevelt, 
do you think that being a cripple 
has affected your husband’s mind.?” 
There was a shocked silence at this 
cruel question. All eyes were on her. 

“How could it be otherw'ise ?” she 
replied. “One couldn’t suffer as my 
husband has and fail to be affected. 
Suffering has made him more sensi- 
tive, more responsive to his fellow 
men.” 

Mrs, Roosevelt had considerable 

5 ^ 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


influence on her husband, particu- 
larly by indirection. Because of the 
press of duties, F.D.R. saw mainly 
oflicial, important people. She 
wanted him to meet all kinds, and 
so there was always a stream of 
guests in and out of the White 
House. She gave a garden party for 
the inmates of a girls’ reform school; 
she invited actors, labour leaders, re- 
porters, professors. 

“Lady, This Is a Free Country” 

Site inflit.nced her husband, too, 
by acting as a lively sounding-board 
and a frank critic. Frequently, when 
faced with some thorny issue, 
F.I) R. would bring it up at dinner 
and provoke his wife into express- 
ing her opinions. Once he baited her 
so sharply on a problem tliat she be- 
came furious and gave vent to her 
feelings heatedly, while he smiling- 
Iv advanced contrary views. The 
next day she was thunderstruck to 
hear him blandly quoting her re- 
marks to the British Ambassador as 
his view^. 

Often her ideas outraged people, 
but Roosevelt did not try to restrain 
her. “Lady,” he said, “this is a free 
country. Say what you think. Any- 
way, the whole world knows I can’t 
control you.” 

As with all wives, there were also 
moments when Mrs. Roosevelt was 
less than frank. Once, rather than 
approach her husband direct for 
money needed to pay an especially 
large bill, she sent a note to his sec- 
retary, “Missy” LcHand. In it she 


January 

said, “I know F.D.R. will have a 
fit.” Roosevelt happened to see the 
message while Miss LeHand was 
out. When she returned, she found 
written across it : “Pay it. Have had 
the fit. F.D.R.” 

Within a week after her husband’s 
death Eleanor Roosevelt left the 
White House; the last day was spent 
in saying farewell to saddened em- 
ployees and friends. She invited her 
newspaper women to a final tea in 
the state dining-room. “This is not 
a press conference,” she said. “I just 
want to say good bye.” Later she 
added, “The story is over.” 

But the story was far from over. 
Indeed, a new and perhaps even 
more fulfilling chapter of her life 
was about to unfold. President Tru- 
man appointed her a delegate to 
the first Assembly of the United Na- 
tions, meeting in London in 1946. 

Within months she had proved 
herself a well-informed and vigor- 
ous debater, and both friend and foe 
came to rec^ignize her achievements. 
When she walked through the Gen- 
eral Assembly in Pans in 1948, after 
its passage of the Declaration of Hu- 
man Rights, which she had patiently 
shepherded for three years, the en- 
tire body of hundreds of delegates 
rose and gave her a rousing ovation. 

In this new job, she got about 
1,000 letters a week, most of them 
from ordinary people or obscure or- 
ganizations. Nearly all asked for 
help. One might be a request to 
plead some cause before the U.N., 
the next an appeal to find an errant 



MY MOST UNFORGETTABLE CHARACTER 


1964 

husband. They were usually 
answered late at night after a full 
day of work and one or more diplo- 
matic functions in the evening. 
People all over the world who had 
problems and did not know to 
whom to appeal inevitably thought 
of Mrs. Roosevelt. 

She held her U.N. post until 1952. 
Thereafter, still thinking of die 
U.N. as her husband’s greatest 
memorial and her own best hope for 
world peace, she worked for the 
American Association for the 
United Nations. 

She also continued to write her 
column, “My Day,” and to make 
radio and television appearances. 
She even made a television com- 
mercial for a margarine, thereby 
stirring up another blizzard of 
letters. “The mail was about evenly 
divided,” she said. “One half was 
sad because I had damaged my repu- 
tation. The other halt was happy 
because I had damaged my reputa- 
tion.” But her favourite charity 
needed the money, and a new tele- 
vision audience heard her pleas for 
peace and democracy. 

She was as vigorous as ever. She 
rose at 7 a.m. and was usually busy 
until after midnight. She gave up 
cold showers and physical jerks, but 
made her own bed, turning the mat- 
tress each day to get extra exercise. 
“I look like Methuselah,” she said, 
“but \ feel no older than my young- 
est friends.” 

On my 50th anniversary as a re- 
porter for the New York Herald 


Tribune, my colleagues gave a little 
surprise party for me at the office. 
Suddenly a tall, familiar figure came 
rushing into the room. Mrs. Roose- 
velt, of course. She made a charm- 
ing litdc speech about the many 
years that I had covered her activi- 
ties. She had a dozen important 
things to do, but, as always, she 
fitted in the kindly gesture. 

The Friend Is Lost 

After she passed the Biblical 
three-score and ten years, Mrs. 
Roosevelt circled the globe three 
times, interviewed Khrushchev in 
Russia, faced a Communist mob in 
India, swam with Tito at his island 
hideaway. 

A friend estimated now that 
Mrs. Roosevelt had dictated or 
written many more than a million 
letters, flown more than a million 
miles, given away more than a mil- 
lion dollars. But she had no idea of 
retiring. 

“I think I have a good deal of my 
Uncle Theodore in me,” she said on 
her 77th birthday, “because I could 
not, at any age, be content to take 
my place in a corner by the fireside 
and simply look on. Life was meant 
to be lived. One must never turn his 
back on life.” 

It was often suggested that she 
stand for political office, but she al- 
ways laughed off the idea. In the 
spring of 1962 some New Yorkers 
proposed her for governor. At a pub- 
lic luncheon she described this as 
“sheer idiocy for one of my age.” 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


influence on her husband, particu- 
larly by indirection. Because of the 
press of duties, F.D.R. saw mainly 
oflicial, important people. She 
wanted him to meet all kinds, and 
so there was always a stream of 
guests in and out of the White 
House. She gave a garden party for 
the inmates of a girls’ reform school; 
she invited actors, labour leaders, re- 
porters, professors. 

*‘Ladyi This Is a Free Country” 

Sue iNFLiTEvcED her husband, too, 
bv acting as a lively sounding-board 
and a frank critic. Frequently, when 
faced with some thorny issue, 
F.D.R. would bring it up at dinner 
and provoke his wife into express- 
ing her opinions. Once he baited her 
so sharplv on a problem that she be- 
came furious and gave veni to her 
feelings heatedly, while he smiling- 
ly advanced contrary views. The 
next day she was thunderstruck to 
hear him blandly quoting her re- 
marks to the British Ambassador as 
hts views 

Often her ideas outraged people, 
but Roosevelt did not try to restrain 
her. “Lady,” he said, “this is a free 
country. Say what you think. Any- 
way, the whole world knows I can’t 
control you.” 

As with all wives, there were also 
moments when Mrs. Roosevelt was 
less than frank. Once, rather than 
approach her husband direct for 
money needed to pay an especially 
large bill, she sent a note to his sec- 
retary, “Missy” LeHand. In it she 
5-2 


January 

said, “I know F.D.R. will have a 
fit.” Roosevelt happened to see the 
message while Miss LeHand was 
out. When she returned, she found 
written across it : “Pay it. Have had 
the fit. F.D.R.” 

Within a week after her husband’s 
death Eleanor Roosevelt left the 
White House; the last day was spent 
in saying farewell to saddened em- 
ployees and friends. She invited her 
newspaper women to a final tea in 
the state dining-room. “This is not 
a press conference,” she said. “I just 
want to say gcxid-bye ” Later she 
added, “The story is over.” 

But the story was far from over. 
Indeed, a new and perhaps even 
more fulfilling chapter of her life 
was about to unfold. President Tru- 
man appointed her a delegate to 
the first Assembly of the United Na- 
tions, meeting in London in 1946. 

Within months she had proved 
herself a well-informed and vigor- 
ous debater, and both friend and foe 
came to recognize her achievements. 
When she walked through the (Jen- 
eral Assembly in Pans in 1948, after 
Its passage of the Declaration of Hu- 
man Rights, which she had patiently 
shepherded for three years, the en- 
tire body of hundreds of delegates 
rose and gave her a rousing ovation. 

In this new job, she got about 
1,000 letters a week, most of them 
from ordinary people or obscure or- 
ganizations. Nearly all asked for 
help. One might be a request to 
plead some cause before the U N., 
the next an appeal to find an errant 



MY MOST UNFORGETTABLE CHARACTER 


1964 


husband. They were usually 
answered late at night after a full 
day of work and one or more diplo- 
matic functions in the evening. 
People all over the world who had 
problems and did not know to 
whom to appeal inevitably thought 
of Mrs. Roosevelt. 

She held her U.N. post until 1952. 
Thereafter, still thinking of die 
U.N. as her husband's greatest 
memorial and her own best hope for 
world peace, she worked for the 
American Association for the 
United Nations. 

She also continued to write her 
column, “My Day," and to make 
radio and television appearances. 
She even made a television com- 
mercial for a margarine, thereby 
stirring up another blizzard o^ 
letters. “The mail was about evenly 
divided," .she said. “One half was 
sad because I had damaged my repu- 
tation. The other half was happy 
because 1 had damaged my reputa- 
tion.” But her favourite chariU' 

j 

needed the money, and a new tele- 
\ision audience heard her pleas for 
peace and democracy. 

She was as vigorous as ever. She 
rose at 7 a.m. and was usually busy 
until after midnight. She gave up 
cold showers and physical jerks, but 
made her own bed, turning the mat- 
tress each day to get extra exercise. 
“I look like Methuselah,” she said, 
“but 1 feel no older than my young- 
est friends.” 

On my 50th anniversary as a re- 
porter for the New York Herald 


Tribune, my colleagues gave a litde 
surprise party for me at the office. 
Suddenly a tall, familiar figure came 
rushing into the room. Mrs. Roose- 
velt, of course. She made a charm- 
ing little speech about the many 
years that I had covered her activi- 
ties. She had a dozen important 
things to do, but, as always, she 
fitted in the kindly gesture. 

The Friend Is Lost 

After she passed the Biblical 
three-score and ten years, Mrs. 
Roosevelt circled the globe three 
times, interviewed Khrushchev in 
Russia, faced a Communist mob in 
India, swam with Tito at his island 
hideaway. 

A friend estimated now that 
Mrs. Roosevelt had dictated or 
written many more than a million 
letters, flown more than a million 
miles, given away more than a mil- 
lion dollars. But she had no idea of 
retiring. 

“I think I have a good deal of my 
Uncle Theodore in me,” she said on 
her 77th birthday, “because I could 
not, at any age, be content to take 
my place in a corner by the fireside 
and simply look on. Life was meant 
to be lived. One must never turn his 
back on life.” 

It was often suggested that she 
stand for political office, but she al- 
ways laughed off the idea. In the 
spring of 1962 some New Yorkers 
proposed her for governor. At a pub- 
lic luncheon she described this as 
“sheer idiocy for one of my age." 

5? 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


She then bolted down a long stair- 
way, too impatient to wait for the 
lift. It was the last time I saw her. 

Eventually, her seemingly inex- 
haustible energy began to flag. She 
had developed anaemia. But her 
spirit rebelled at the idea of ill 
health, and she obeyed her doctor’s 
oiders only sporadically. The New 
York State Democratic primary 
campaign of 1962 found her again 
at the hustings, enlisted in the re- 
form ranks against the “bosses.” In 
late August she went on a sound 
relay van to the far reaches of New 
York City’s boroughs. She had a 
temperature of 102, but made five 
short speeches. At one place a little 
girl gave her an armful of flowers. 
“You see, I had to come,” Mrs. 
Roosevelt said to a friend. “I was 
expected.” 

The next day she went to Hyde 
l^ark to rest. She thought she “must 
have picked up a germ.” Actually, 
she was suffering from a rare type 
of bone-marrow tuberculosis, and 
her 78th birthday, on October ii, 
was spent in hospital. Then, on 
November 7, she died. 

She WPS laid to rest beside her 
husband in the rose garden at Hyde 
Park on a blustery autumn day. 
Lead-grey skies settled like a gentle 
pall over the paths where I had once 
walked with her. At her graveside 
were three Presidents of the United 


YOUNG company executive rue 
“l*m bleeding,” he said, “from the 


States. There were also people from 
all over the world, some from 
nations whose existence had never 
been dreamed of in her youth, but 
who now mourned her as their 
friend. 

“What other single human 
being has touched and transformed 
the existence of so many others?” 
asked Adlai Stevenson. “What 
better measure is there of the impact 
of anyone's life 

Even as her life had ebbed pain- 
fully away there had been time for 
small kindnesses. A few days after 
Mrs. Roosevelt’s death, a housewife 
received a cheque for ten dollars. 
The woman was the daughter of a 
hitchhiker Mrs. Roosevelt had once 
picked up. He had been out of 
work, and she had found him a job. 
Gratefully, he said that if he ever 
had a daughter he would name her 
after the First Lady. When the man 
did have a daughter, Mrs. Roosevelt 
asked to be the godmother. She saw 
the girl only a few times. 

The girl grew up and married. 
Each birthday she received a ten- 
dollar cheque from Mrs. Roosevelt. 
The last came on November 10. The 
signature was a feeble but legible 
“A. E. Roosevelt.” It was posted the 
day before she died. 

“That was the kind of woman she 
was,” the housewife said. “She 
never forgot.” 


Lilly admitted a too-hasty decision, 
spur of the moment.” — r./..v 



54 



You’ll Be Puzzled... 


Bv Makhn Gardner 


THE BICYCLES AND THE FLY 

Two boys on bicycles, 20 miles 
apart, began racing straight towards 
each other. The instant tihey started, 
a fly on the handlebar of one bicycle 
started flying straight towards the 
other cyclist. As soon as it reached 
the other bicycle, it turned and 
started back. The fly flew back and 
forth in this way, from handlebar to 
handlebar, until the bicycles met. 

If each bicycle had a constant 
speed of ten miles an hour, and the 
fly flew at a constant speed of 15 
miles an hour, how far did the fly 
fly? 

Solution 

Each bicycle travels at ten miles 
an hour, so the two will meet at the 
centre of the 20-mile distance in ex- 
actly one hour. The fly travels at 15 
miles an hour, so at the end of the 
hour it will have gone 15 miles. 

Many people try to solve this 
problem the hard way. They calcu- 
late the lengtli of the fly’s first path 
between bicycles, then the length of 
his path back, and so on for shorter 


and shorter paths. But this involves 
what IS called the summing of an 
infinite series, and it is very com- 
plicated, advanced mathematics. 

It IS said that John von Neumann, 
perhaps the greatest mathematician 
in the world when he died in 1957, 
was once asked this problem at a 
ctKktail party. He thought for a mo- 
ment, then gave the correct answer. 
The person who asked the question 
looked a bit crestfallen; he explained 
that most mathematicians overlook 
the simple way it can be solved and 
try to solve it by the lengthy process 
of .summing an infinite senes. 

Von Neumann looked surprised. 
“But that’s how I solved it,’’ he said. 


THE THREE TIES 

Mr. Brown, Mr. Green and Mr. 
Black were lunching together. One 
wore a brown tie, one a green tie, 
one a black. 1 

“Have you noticed,’’ said the man 
with the green tie, “that although 
our ties have colours that match our 
names, not one of us has on a tie 
that matches his own name?” 


55 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


“By golly, you re right!” ex- 
claimed Mr. Brown. 

What colour tie was each man 
wearing? 

Solution 

Mr. Brown had a black tic. 

Mr. Black had a green tic. 

Mr. Green had a brown tie. 

Brown couldn’t be wearing a 
brown tie, for then it would corre- 
spond to his name. He couldn’t be 
wearing a green tie because a tic of 
this colour is on the man who asked 
him a question. So Brown’s tie must 
be black. This leaves the green and 
brown tics to be worn rcspcctivelv 
by Black and (ircen. 


LOW FINANCE 

“I seem to have overdrawn my 
account,” said Mr (Jrecn to the 
bank manager, “though 1 can’t for 
the life of me understand how' it 
could have happened. You sec, 1 
originally had in the bank. 

Then I made six withdrawals. 
These withdrawals add up to ^roo 
but, according to my records, there 
was only ^^99 in the bank to draw 
from. Let me show you the figures.” 

Mr. Green handed over a sheet of 


paper on 

«riTI1I>lUKALS 

which he had written : 

AMCIlihT LIFT IN aCI ill 

£so 

£50 

as 

*5 

10 

15 

8 

7 

5 

2 

2 

0 

£ioo 

£99 


56 


“As you see,” said Mr. Green, “I 
seem to owe the bank a pound.” 

The bank manager looked over 
the figures and smiled. “I appreciate 
your honesty, Mr. Green. But you 
owe us nothing.” 

“Then there is a mistake in the 
figures?” 

“No, your figures are correct.” 

Can you explain where the error 
lies? 

Solution 

There is no reason whatever why 
Mr. Green’s original deposit of /too 
should equal the total of the 
amounts left after each withdrawal. 
It IS just a coincidence that the total 
of the right-hand column comes as 
close as it d(x*s to /ifH). 

This is easily seen by making 
charts to show a different scries of 
withdrawals. Here are two possibi- 
lities : 


WlTlfDRiVI 4I.S NT 1.F.I T IN NT 


£99 

£i 

I 

0 

£100 

£t 

TVlTlinilAH ALH 

ANOI'NT LPFT IN A0( OliRT 

£i 

£99 

I 

98 

I 

97 

97 

0 


£100 £294 


As you see, the total on the 
left must alw'ays be /joo, but the 
total on the right can be very 
small or very large. 



Helpless Little Thing? 

By Mahcia Winn 


\ 'jr ^HY IS IT that everyone 
t\f refers to a baby as a 
▼ helpless little thing? Give 
a baby a home of his own, and he is 
the least helpless object in it. All he 
needs to do to have his every want 
filled is to let out one small peep. If 
help does not come at once, he need 
only extend this peep into a wail. 
And by forcing a bellow, he can 
throw the entire household into a 
tailspin from which it may not 
emerge for days. 

He can’t walk, he can’t talk, he 
can’t feed or bathe him.self, and in 
th.'it he has an unmixed blessing. 
Unable to walk, he can he in bed all 
day and kick his leg.s— the envy of 
every adult who secs him. Unable to 
talk, he need never answer unncces- 
s.iry questions, become involved in 
a political argument or politely tol- 
erate a bore. When oppressed by the 
last, he can turn his head the other 
way, go to sleep, and have his ac- 
tions approved by polite society. 

He need never worry over what 
he IS going to wear today or what he 
will eat for lunch. If he doesn’t wear 
a sutch, he is perfectly content, and 
no one will raise an eyebrow. If he 


doesn’t like his food, he can spit, 
blow or bubble it out, no matter 
who is watching, or he can disdain 
to cat at all. He can emit, at the end 
of a meal, a resounding belch, and 
be applauded for what later will 
be considered most unscemlv. 

.Soon the world .it large will 
criticize tlie way his hair grows, 
although now his admirers arc en- 
chanted because it grows at all. It 
will criticize the wav he eats, al- 
thouj^h now all are ecstatic if he gets 
it down an\ way. If he turns out to 
be beautiful, gocxl, rich or success- 
ful, part of the world will envy 
him; and if he turns out to be ugly, 
bad-tempered, p(W or a failure, the 
other part of the world will berate 
him. Hut now, probably for the last 
time in his life, he is eulogized by 
poets, chucked under the chin by 
old ladies, cooed at by Scrooges and 
adored by all. 

Far from being helpless in this 
world, he is the only human being 
who can turn it to good use. It 
wasn’t idle conversation that 
prompted a doctor to muse, “In 
the next life Tm going to be a 
perpetual baby.*' 


C indented from Chicago Tribune 


57 



Her true story is in many ways more fascinating than the 
legends that have surrounded her name for 2,000 years 


The Real Cleopatra 


Believed to be a likeness 
Cleopatra, this lime^tn/it' 
bust in the Biitish Museum 
IS one oj our onlv ilui s In 
her appeal (UK t' 



Ddn Wii\rm)s is HMUiIIy thought (>t as an Egv|)tian 

f siren, a wanton seductress, who killed herself 
for love of the Roman general Mark Antony. 
Little of this IS true. Although CHeopalra was queen 
of the ancient kingdom, not a drop of Egyptian 
blood Jlowcd in her veins. 

She was a Macedonian Greek; her Egyptian 
capital, Alexandria, was a (ircek city, and her court 
linguage was Greek. Her dynasty had been 
founded by Ptolemy, a Macedonian general of 
Alexander the Great, who, after Alexander’s death, 
seized Egypt and made himself king. 

Condensed from H.S. Lady 

5S 



THE REAL CLEOPATRA 


As for her wantonness, not a 
shred of evidence connects Cleo- 
patra with any man except Julius 
Caesar and, three years after his 
death, Mark Antony. These were 
not idle liaisons but open unions, 
approved by her priests and recog- 
nized in Egypt as marriages. The 
idea that she was a voluptuary who 
employed all her wiles lo seduce 
these men is absurd. Julius Caesar, 
some 30 years her elder, had had 
four wives and countless mistresses. 
His soldiers called him the “bald 
adulterer” and sang a couplet warn- 
ing husbands to keep their wives 
under lock and key when Caesar 
was in town. Mark Antony, 14 years 
older than the little queen, was also 
a noted philanderer. And in the end 
It was not because of love for him 
that (Cleopatra killed herself, but out 
of a desire to escape degradation at 
the hands of another conqueior. 

Yet the legend has persisted for 
2,(K)o years, chiefly because poets 
and playwrights, including Shake- 
speare, emphasized her physical 
charms and passion rather than her 
brains and courage. Her deeds, 
however, reveal her as a brilliant, 
resourceful woman who spent her 
life in a battle to keep her country 
from being swallowed up by the 
Romans. 

Born in 68 or 69 b.c., Cleopatra 
grew up amid palace intrigue and 
violence. Her father, Ptolemy XI, 
was a drunkard, an orgiast and a 
flute player. He died when Cleo- 
patra was 18, and .she then became 


queen, ruling jointly with her ten- 
year-old brother, Ptolemy XII. 
Two years later the young Ptolemy, 
dominated by a trio of palace 
schemers, forced Cleopatra into 
exile in Syria. Showing the spirit 
which was to characterize her life, 
she promptly raised an army and 
started to march back across the 
desert to fight for her throne. 

This was the Cleopatra whom 
Caesar met in the autumn of 48 b.c. 
He had come to Egypt in pursuit 
of the Roman general Pompey, his 
adversary in a struggle for political 
power — the kind of struggle that 
was to keep Rome in turmoil for 
almost a century. 

What did C^.leopatra look like? 
The only clues arc a few coins 
stamped with her profile, and a 
bust dug from Roman ruins some 
1,800 years after her death. They 
show an aquiline nose, a beautifully 
formed mouth with finely chiselled 
lips. A number of ancient historians 
wrote of her “ravishing beauty,” 
but they were not men who had 
actually seen her. Perhaps the most 
accurate description is b\ Plutarch, 
whose grandfather was told about 
Cleopatra by a physician acquainted 
with one of the royal cooks. 
Plutarch wrote that her actual 
bcautv “was not in itself so remark- 

a 

able that none could be compared 
to her.” 

All early writers agreed, how- 
ever, on her “fascinating” con- 
versation, her lovely voice, “her 
adroitness and subtlety in speech.” 

59 



THE READER^S DIGEST 


She spoke six languages, was well 
acquainted with Greek history, 
literature and philosophy, a shrewd 
negotiator and apparently a first-rate 
military strategist. She also had an 
ability to dramatize herself. When 
summoned by Caesar to leave her 
troops and come to the palace he 
had taken over in Alexandria, 
Cleopatra slipped into the city at 
dusk, had herself tied up in a roll 
of bedding and, thus concealed, was 
carried on an attendant’s back 
through the gates to C'aesar’s apart- 
ment. 

Whether her stratagem was to 
elude assassins in her brother’s hire, 
or to impress (Caesar, it was one of 
the most dramatic entrances of all 
time. Her courage and charm 
helped to convince C>aesar that it 
would be politic to restore her to her 
throne. And she became pregnant 
very soon after their first meeting. 

Possibly to impress Caesar with 
Egypt’s wealth, Cleopatra the next 
spring organized a huge expedition 
up the Nile. For weeks she and 
Caesar floated along in an elaborate 
houseboat, accompanied bv 4(X) 
vessels canying troops and supplies. 
Then, in June, Cleopatra gave 
birth to a son, Cacsarion— (ireek 
for Little Caesar. The infant, his 
father’s only son, seems to have been 
the root of an ambitious plan for 
Caesar and Cleopatra to merge 
Rome and Egypt into one vast em- 
pire to be ruled by them and their 
line. 

Promptly on the birth of the boy, 
6o 


January 

Caesar left Alexandria and began 
military operations in Asia Minor 
and North Africa, mopping up all 
remaining opposition. Within a 
year he returned triumphantly to 
Rome — undisputed dictator. Cleo- 
patra was there with Caesanon, 
established by Caesar in a magnifi- 
cent villa. 

As a queen with a royal court, 
Cleopatra began to exert her in- 
fluence on Roman life. She brought 
coiners from Alexandria to im- 
prove the Roman mint, financiers 
to arrange Caesar’s economic pro- 
gramme. Her astronomers reformed 
the Roman calendar, creating the 
one on which our modern system is 
based. Caesar had her statue placed 
in a new temple built to honour 
Venus, and he issued a coin on 
which Venus and Eros could be 
recognized as C'lcopatra with 
Cacsarion in her arms. His power 
seemed absolute. Then suddenly, 
20 months after (Jleopalra came to 
Rome, Julius Caesar was a corpse- 
murdered on the Ides of March. 

Was Cleopatra grief-slncken ^ No 
one knows. After a month she sailed 
back to Egy[)t. Historians have no 
facts about the next three years of 
her reign except that, in the power 
struggle that now plunged Rome 
into civil war, the contenders sought 
her aid. Apparently her policy was 
one of cautious waiting to see who 
was to become C'aesar’s successor. 

When Mark Antony emerged as 
the strong man of the East, he bade 
Cleopatra meet him at Tarsus, h'or 



THE REAL CLEOPATRA 


1964 

a tune she ignored his summons; 
then she set sail with a splendid 
fleet, carrying gold, slaves, horses 
and jewels. At Tarsus, instead of 
going ashore as a suppliant, Cleo- 
patra coolly waited at anchor. After 
she had adroitly manoeuvred An- 
tony into becoming her guest, she 
confronted him with a dazzling 
spectacle : the galley’s silver-tipped 
fKirs beating time to the music of 
flutes and harps, its ropes worked 
by beautiful slaves dressed as sea 
nymphs and graces, censers pour- 
ing out exotic perfumes. Reclining 
under a gold awning was Cleopatra 
garbed as Venus, fanned by young 
boys resembling cupids. 

When the banquet was over, 
Cleopatra presented Anionv with 
the gold plate, elaborate drinking 
vessels, sumptuous couches and 
embroideries used for it. The next 
night she entertained Anionv and 
his officers again, and on their 
departure lavished similai gifts on 
each guest. Her goal was not to gain 
Antony’s affections but to impress 
upon him the limitless wealth of 
Egypt, hence its potentialities as an 
ally. 

Three months later Antony came 
to Alexandria, and spent the winter 
there. He left in the spring, six 
months before Clc<;palra bore their 
twins, and did not see her again for 
nearly four years. Cleopatra mean- 
while strengthened her country’s 
defences, built up her navy, amassed 
gold and supplies. When Antony, 
hoping to extend his power in the 


East, asked her to meet him in 
Syria, she came as a determined bar- 
gainer. She extracted an agreement 
whereby Egypt would be given all 
the vast areas the Pharaohs had pos 
sessed 1,400 years before, but which 
were now Roman provinces. An- 
tony also agreed to a legal marriage, 
and in celebration of this event coins 
were struck bearing their two heads. 
At that time Cleopatra began a new 
dating of her reign. 

Now 33, she set out with Antony 
to make war on the Persians, but at 
the Euphrates she had to give up the 
campaign. She was pregnant again. 
The child arrived in the autumn, 
and that winter there came des- 
perate appeals from Antony: his 
army had been cut to pieces, and 
the haggard remnants had barcU 
escaped to the Syrian coast. C'leo- 
patra, with money, supplies and 
weapons, sailed 10 his rescue. 

The next year, 3*5 b.c., she had to 
use all her wiles to keep Antoin -- 
his mind Lloudcd with prolonged 
drinking— from attemiiting another 
invasion of Persia. Reali/ing that 
their true enemy was Octavian, 
(Caesar’s nephew and legal heir who 
from Rome dominated the West, 
she urged Anionv to concentrate 
on his overthrow In ^2 b.c. she 
precipitated wMr, with Octavian b\ 
persuading Antony to take tw’o 
steps: issue a writ divorcing Ins 
other wdfc, Octavu (Oclavian's 
beautiful sister), and order troops t<i 
cross the Aegean Sea into Greece. 

Cleopatra was now at her peak. 



THE HEADERS DIGEST 


with vassal kings from dbc Middle 
East paying her court, the Athe- 
nians showering her with honours, 
hailing her as Aphrodite and erect- 
ing her statue in the Acropolis. 

Then, at Actium on the west 
coast of Greece late in the afternoon 
of September 2, 31 b . c ., everything 
crumbled. Historians have never 
agreed about this crucial battle: 
why Antony, with a superior army, 
Ut it become a naval engagement; 
or why Cleopatra, with the sea fight 
raging and the outcome still un- 
decided, hoisted sail and made off 
downwind for Egypt with her 60 
warships; or why Antony left his 
huge army behind, boarded her 
ship and sailed away with her. 

At home, when news of the dis- 
aster spread, Cleopatra firmly put 
down all disaffection. She tried to 
strengthen tics with neighbouring 
countries. She also began trans- 
tcrring warships from the Medi- 
terranean to the Red Sea — a 
stupendous project which involved 
dragging them across miles of 
desert. 

When Octavian’s troops arrived 
and Egypt’s frontier forts fell to 
them, Cleopatra remained in Alex- 
andria, prepared to bargain with 
Octavian or do battle with him. But 
when the invading army closed in, 
the queen’s navy and cavalry desert- 
ed. Antony killed himself. Taken 
alive, Cleopatra was put under 


/ANUARY 2 is when most people 
than a hahit. 


guard and warned that if she killed 
herself her children would be put 
to death. 

Though Octavian promised 
clemency, Cleopatra assumed that 
her fate would oe like that of hun- 
dreds of other royal captives who 
had been paraded in chains through 
the streets of Rome, then executed. 
Audacious to the end, she pretended 
to abandon all thought of suicide. 
Securing permission to visit An- 
tony’s grave, she apparently made 
contact with faithful followers as 
her litter was carried through the' 
streets. 

She returned to her quarters, 
bathed, dined and ordered her 
attendants to dress her as Venus. Of 
what happened next we know only 
this: Roman officers breaking into 
her quarters found Cleopatra dead. 
According to legend, the queen had 
allowed herself to be stung by an asp 
smuggled to her in a basket of figs. 

When Octavian ’s conquest of 
Egypt was celebrated in Rome, a 
statue of (Cleopatra was dragged 
through the streets with an asp 
clinging to one arm. tier three chil- 
dren by Antony— (^.aesarion had 
been executed — were forced to 
march in the degrading procession. 
It was then that Roman poets, to 
court favour with the victor, began 
to spread the myth of a wicked and 
licentious Egyptian queen, the 
myth which continues to this day. 


that It’s easier to break a resolution 

- Fmm Inurnal 


€2 



^Pltfi a “/icri- Umh" iind a soft selL the Halim Communist 
Party is trying to iujodwhik the feoph into Mieving that it 
IS tndx’ Hit nested in dnntnraiy 


The Winning 
Ways of 

Italian Communism 


■>. I -wi 


Ky Ernkst Hausir 

taly’s Commun- 
ists are happy. 
Last April the 
, C'ommunist Party 
piled up 77 mil- 
lion votes, a mil- 
lion more than it 
polled in 1958, A 
Itw da\.s after the elections the 
[\irly organ, rUntta, printed a pic- 
ture of a crowded street in Italy in 
which one in every four people was 
coloured red. No one could argue 
with that kind of bragging; fully a 
i]uarter of the Italian electorate had 
voted Oimmunist. 

What can it mean? The United 
States, since the war, has poured 
nearlv 6,000 million dollars’ (Rs. 
^>850 crores) w'orth of aid into Ital). 
Partly as a result of this priming, 
Italy’s output has doublcu in the 


last ten years, and is now rising at a 
faster rate than that of any other 
European countr\. Perhaps the 
notion that prosperity is the best 
bulwark against Communism is fal- 
lacious And what about that other 
bulwark-religion'^ How, in this 
almost solidly Catholic country, 
could millions of men and women 
endorse an atheistic philosophy? 

While such questions are being 
pondered, the possibility of an even- 
tual Red takeover of Italy by 
democratic means no longer seems 
unthinkable. Italy’s Communist 
Party has a card^holding member- 
ship of 17 million— the largest in 
the West. It is also the best-organ- 
izxd and most ably run. With 166 
Communists in the 630-membcr 
(chamber of Deputies, and another 
85 in the 315-member Senate, the 



THE RE.^DER'S DIGEST 


party casts a long red shadow on the 
Italian legislature. The powerful 
General Federation of Labour 
(CGIL) is a Communist fief, with 
ranking party officers in key posi- 
tions. 

Add to all this the party’s 
following among Italian intellec- 
tuals and scientists; us string of 
publishing concerns; a lively batch 
of Communist-front organizations 
— and what vou get is certainly 
something to be retkoned with. 

Functioning as a state within the 
state, the Italian Communist Party 
has created a political machine that 
reaches into the remotest corner of 
the countr). At the bottom of the 
complex structure are 41,100 cells-- 
small groups of comrades working 
in the same factory or office or living 
in the same street. No one can be a 
partv member without belonging to 
a cell. 

Above the cells arc 11,046 
wards and, ab(Ac them, 114 pro- 
vincial federations. (The target, “a 
Red ward for c\er\ churLh steeple," 
IS still distant; there are ^1,000 
parLshes in Italy.) The pyramid is 
topped by the “Red Palace,” also 
known as the “Little Kremlin” — a 
bl(»od-red, six-storev ^igar-box of a 
building housing the parts 's na- 
tional headquarters in Rome. Here 
sits Palmiro l\>gliatti, the party’s 
Moscow-trained chief anil the ulti- 
mate repo.sitory of all power. 

Now 70 years old. Togliatti is the 
most brilli.mt (\)mmunist outside 
the Iron Curtain, and possibly his 
04 


country’s ablest politician. II pad- 
rone (the boss, as his associates call 
him) might easily be taken for a 
prominent businessman. His lively 
eyes and ponderous forehead give 
him an air of worldly wisdom. He 
speaks SIX languages, including 
Russian, and reads Greek and Latin 
texts for relaxation. 

Under Togliatti’s stewardship, 
Italian Communism has come a 
long way since the touch-and-go 
days of 1948, when party ruffians 
were running wild in the streets, 
machine-guns were mounted on the 
roofs, and factories were taken over 
by Red shock troops. Believing that 
revolution in this sunny land is 
doomed to failure, the party has in 
recent years adopted a “new look.” 

“We must present ourselves,” 
Togliatti instructed a group of party 
functionaries, “as a parly of the 
Italian nation — a party that wants, 
defends and fosters democracy. We 
must make people understand that 
here there will always be farm prop- 
erty of small and medium size, pro- 
ductive artisans, and small private 
enterprise. What we* want, on the 
ba.sis of the Italian constitution, is a 
new demcKracy in which many as- 
pects of present-day Italian society 
will continue to exist.” 

It IS a deceptive tune, hard to re- 
sist. With a flair for clever pub- 
licity, Red chiefs have cloaked their 
true aim with an image of rcsjicct- 
ability that looks attractive to 
Italians in every walk of life. In last 
April’s elections, the party even 



changed the colour of its campaign 
banners, from red to royal blue. But 
the change of wrapping in no way 
affects the merchandise. For all 
major policy decisions — ^whether on 
disarmament, Laos, Berlin or Cuba 
— the Italian comrades plug the 
Moscow line. And more than half 
the party’s annual budget of some 
13,000 million lire (al^ut Rs. 10 
crores) — over 20,000 million lire in 
an election year — is contributed by 
Soviet Russia. 

Who votes Communist in Italy? 
First, anybody with a grievance 
against the government. Second, the 
peasants who, newly-arrived in the 
industrial cities, are easily im- 
pressed. In the seedy Vimodronc 
precinct, on the periphery of pros- 
perous Milan, I came upon several 
hundred migrants— a droplet from 
the flow of nearly a million people 
who in the last ten years have 
trekked from the poor, backward 
south of Italy to the industrial north. 
At home they had been farm work- 
ers, earning 950 lire (alxjut Rs. 7) a 
day — 200 days a year. Up here, they 
could work on one of many build- 
ing projects ar 62,500 lire a month. 

A young Qimmunist took me 
round the helter-skelter of small 
houses where these workers live, 
mostly in miserable basement dor- 
mitories, paying about 5,000 to 6,500 
hre a month for a bed. Then 
he guided me to a large corner 
building housing the Communist 
co-operative. It was Sunday. The 
spacious hall was thronged with 




Paimtto Tn^tiatii 


men playing cards or draughts, or 
watching television There was a 
restaurant, serving hot meals at cost, 
an espresso bar, and an annexe 
containing a fine indoor hocce court, 
the Italian version of the bowling 
alley. 

The lonely village boys crowding 
the hall knew that, to the Milanese, 
their dress, their gait, their dialect 
made them objects of contempt and 
ridicule. Where were they to go, 
what to do? V/cll, here was the 
Red co-op, where one could linger 
over a cheap meal and where some 
“sympathetic*’ comrade was always 
willing to listen to one’s troubles. 
Is it surprising that the majority of 
them became Communists? 

Although the party is growing in 
almost every part of July, it is from 

65 



THE READEI^S DIGEST 


the area north of Rome that Com- 
munism draws its greatest strength. 
Here the Communists’ position is 
reinforced by alliance with the 
socialists, from whose left flank they 
sprang in 1921. On the city and 
provincial levels — also in local gov- 
ernments and in trade unions — the 
socialists often supply the needed 
percentage points to form a major- 
ity, invariably dominated by the 
more dynamic Communists. Out of 
Italy’s 8,000 townships, some 1,70*^ 
are run by this kind of coalition; 
and almost all of these lie north of 
Rome. 

Cc3mmunist control m the north 
is further buttressed by an inter- 
locking structure of vested interests. 
The party operates hundreds of 
manufacturing, trading and agricul- 
tural co-operatives. I noticed that 
the main piazzas of many Com- 
munist-run towns were paved with 
the same purple porphyry, and 
learned that the supplier was a 
Communist co-operative working 
a quarry near Verona. Other Red 
ventures into capitalism include 
ownership of shops, cinemas, 
garages, dance halls, hotels, and 
several big import-export houses 
doing business with Iron Curtain 
countries. 

I spent a day in Carpi, a prosper- 
ing town of 45,000 in the lush, green 
Po plain. The comracies had prom- 
ised me a ‘‘glimpse into the future 
Italy,” and I saw what they meant. 
Dubbed the “Red Citadel,” Carpi 
was in effect a Soviet republic. The 
66 


January 

, mustering 56 per cent of the 
vote, was wielding total 
power, subject only to the controls 
of the government in Rome. 

Carpi had some 250 small 
and medium-sized manufacturing 
plants, employing 5,500 workers. 
The Communists, with town hall, 
trade unions and co-operatives in 
hand, were ruling by a system of 
reward and punishment that was 
extremely hard to resist. Your local 
taxes seem too stiff.? A friendly offi- 
cer will reconsider the assessment: 
Your boy needs a scholarship.? We 
may arrange it. You’d like to set 
up a small factory? The township 
has bought land; we'll let you have 
a building site for one-third tne 
going price. You don’t like us? Too 
bad, your customers may have to do 
their shopping at the shop across 
the street. 

Even some local capitalists were 
party members. The owner of a 
knitwear plant, a man “exploiting” 
several dozen workers, told me: 
“I’ve been a Oimmunist since I first 
learned to think. Perhaps my busi- 
ness vould be socialized under a 
Communist regime.? So what? I’d 
still be manager and mak(‘ about 
what I’m making now, without the 
headache of resprinsibility.” 

The problem of religion — the 
party’s biggest headache in this 
Catholic country — has been handled 
with finesse. “We oppose religious 
narrow-mindedness not with swear 
words and anti-religious sermons,” 
Togliatti has said, “but with the 




THE WINNING WAYS OF ITAUAN COMMUNFSM 


1964 

idea of tolerance.” Surprisiiigly, it 
seems to work. 

The Catholic Church, it is true, 
has never compromised with the 
‘'materialistic, and-Christian doc- 
trine of Communism.” But the 
intuidve Pope ]ohn saw himself as 
the supranadonal shepherd whose 
mission it was to reunite the separat- 
ed Bock. 

With this goal in mind, he 
started punching holes in the Iron 
Curtain. He began negotiadons 
with Eastern European govern- 
ments. He received Khrushchev's 
son-indaw, Aleksei Adzhubei, at 
the Vadcan. And his encyclical. 
Peace on Earth, with its warning 
that “One must never confuse error 
and the person who errs,” could 
be read to suggest something like 
peaceful co-existence with the East- 
ern bloc. As a result, Catholic vigi- 
lance relaxed. Everywhere I went in 
Italy, people were saying that it was 
now “all right to be both. Catholic 
and Conununist — ^the Pope himself 
said so.” 

In Italy today it is chic to be Red. 
This IS especially true in intellectual 
and artistic circles. Some of the best- 
known members of the Rome film 
colony are Communists. Renato 
Guttuso, the painter, is a member 
of the party's Central Conunittee. 
Journalists, publishers, writers, 
poets, architects and sciendsts play 
an aedve part in Conununist life. 
Carlo Levi, author of the best-seller, 
Christ Stopped at Eboli, carries no 
party card. Nevertheless he recendy 


accepted an invitadon to stand for 
elecdon on the Communist ticket 
and is now a senator. “Why not?” 
he asked me when I called on him. 
“I sdll retain my independence.” 

This blooming love affair be- 
tween the party and the intellectuals 
excites millions of young Italians. 
The Conununist youth organiza- 
don, grouping 188,000 boys and 
girls between 14 and 21, is one of 
the party's most dynamic branches. 
It has penetrated some of the 
country’s leading universities, main- 
tains youth cells in factories and 
schools, stages cultural debates, 
even operates a travel bureau. Its 
message: the Soviet Union is the 
country of the future — vigorous, 
youthful, with equal opportunity 
for all; while the United States is 
old and stodgy — the land of en- 
trenched privilege where y<>uth has 
no chance. 

And there it is. With its hard core 
of workers; with its battalions of 
tenant farmers, shopkeepers, arti- 
sans and students; with its light 
cavalry of intellectuals and artists, 
the party represents a terrifying 
striking force. How close is it to 
taking over? 

There is no reason to abandon 
hope for Italy’s sdll young democ- 
racy. For one jbing, the period of 
“moral disarmament” in the face of 
the Red threat is over. Already, the 
Conununist success in last April’s 
elections has mobilized political and 
spiritual forces that had been pas- 
sive or indifferent. As one talks with 

67 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


the leaders of the middle-of-the-road 
Italian parties, one finds them far 
from ready to throw in the towel. 
Many are at work preparing a con- 
structive programme which would 
enable the government to roll back 
the Red tide. 

The Vatican, which had for years 
provided a rallying point for anti- 
Communist forces, is taking a new 
interest in the Italian scene. In a 
recent broadcast, Vatican radio 
sharply reminded its listeners of 
their duty, calling on all free men 
to “block every line of Marxist 
penetration.” 

“There is no pretext,” the broad- 
cast added, “that could justify any 
indulgence or conciliatory attitude 
towards M*irxism and Commun- 
ism.” It is no secret that Pope Paul 
VI has given top priority to the spir- 
itual battle against Communism, 

Most political leaders, both of the 
Catholic centre and the non-Com- 
munist left, believe that an anti- 
Commiinist campaign, to be 
effective, should be two-pronged. 
“The effort to alert the Italian 
public and to expose C'ommunism 
as the threat it is,” one prominent 
junior statesman said, “must be 
accompanied by structural reforms. 
We must show the Italian people — 
all of them — that the democratic 
parties can give them a fair deal. As 
long as they arc n(>t convinced of 
that, the protest vote on the far left 
is bound to rise.” 

One thing is certain — in the event 
of a Red victory, the Communist 
68 


“new look” would quickly disap- 
pear. It would not be the first time 
that a country was taken in by such 
blandishments. In ^most every one 
of the Eastern European countries 
now in the Soviet bloc. Communism 
made its way to power with the aid 
of trusting allies. But, once the 
“Popular Front” had gained con- 
trol, the Communists turned ■ on 
thek partners and swifdy liquidated 
them. 

This happened in Poland, where 
the left-wing coalition that won 
the 1947 elections was smashed 
from within by the Cximmunists, It 
happened in Romania, where the 
“National Democratic Front” was 
bloodily transformed into a Com- 
munist dictatorship. It happened 
even in Yugoslavia, where the Com- 
munists, having conquered with the 
help of many other groups, immedi- 
ately grabbed power for themselves. 

While Italy’s Communists 
promise the nation “constitutional 
guarantees” and even a multi-party 
system, there is no reason to believe 
that they could keep these promises 
even if they wanted to. For C>jm- 
munists arc Communists, and it is 
in the nature of the beast that it 
needs total jxiwer to survive. And 
with that total power go all the 
dreary trimmings of the merciless 
police state. Arriving at the goal of 
their conspiracy, the triumphant 
cofnrades would wipe off their 
smiles — and deal with both parmers 
and opponents according to the 
well-known formula. 



POINTS 


TO 


PONDER 


J SPEAKER recently told a group of 
businessmen • that he would never 
promote to top level a man who was 
not making mistakes — and big ones at 
that. Obviously, he did not have habit- 
ual bunglers in mind. But he did ad- 
mit that business does not look for the 
man with no faults. It wants the man 
who makes creative mistakes. 

T. Ryan 




Gratitude does not consist of loving 
a person who does us a service and of 
doing him a service in return. It con- 
sists of profiting by the service that has 
been done, so that we can act as well as 
possible towards the whole of human- 
kind, and not only towards the indivi- 
dual to whom we arc grateful. 

— Frederic Faulhan 


a 

NOTICE that the wicked of this 
world usually hang together even 
when they hate each other. This is 
their strength. Good people arc 
scattered, and this is their weakness. 

— ^Yevgeny Yevtushenko, 
^ Prerortous Autobiography (Collins, Ixindon) 

S^VERY person has his own natural 
stress level at which his mind and 
jhody function most efficiently. Any 


forced deviation from this natural 
base-line may have ill effects. In other 
words, it is just as bad to restrain a 
naturally active, energetic person from 
going at his own intense pace as it is 
to drive a passive, bucolic individual to 
attempt peak accomplishment. 

— Or. Hans Sclye 

I wished to see a mountain or 
other scenery under the most favour- 
able auspices, I would go to it in foul 
weather, so as to be there when it 
cleared up; we are then in the most 
suitable mood, and nature is most 
fresh and inspiring. There is no 
serenity so fair as that which is just 
established in a tearful eye. 

— Henry Thoreau 


^HERE is something so curiously tick- 
ling, so warming to the foolish heart 
in the phenomenon we call coinci- 
dence. When we thus catch life in the 
very act of rhyming, our inordinate 
pleasure is a measure, perhaps, of how 
frightened we really are by the mystery 
of its uncharted seas. 

— Alexander WooJlcott 


HAVE always disliked the phrase 
“fall in love.” I object to "fall.” It im- 
plies that we are walking calmly along 
when suddenly — a hole, and we fall 
in ! Real love always takes time. You 
would not expect to plant a seed and 
find it full-grown overnight. It needs 
proper soil and nourishment to achieve 
its full growth and beauty. So docs 
love. 

I do not say that “love at first sight^” 
may not later turn into love, just as I 
do not say the planted seed may not 
grow to maturity. I do say, though, 
that it needs lime. —Dr. Murmy Banks 

69 



THE READER^S DIGEST 


the leaders of the middle-of-the-road 
Italian parties, one finds them far 
from ready to throw in the towel. 
Many are at work preparing a con- 
structive programme which would 
enable the government to roll back 
the Red tide. 

The Vatican, which had for years 
provided a rallying point for anti- 
Communist forces, is taking a new 
interest in the Italian scene. In a 
recent broadcast, Vatican radio 
sharply reminded its listeners of 
their duty, calling on all free men 
to “block every line of Marxist 
penetration.” 

“There is no pretext,” the broad- 
cast added, “that could justify any 
indulgence or conciliatory attitude 
towards Marxism and Commun- 
ism.” It is no secret that Pof^TPaul 
VI has given top priority to the spir- 
itual battle against Communism. 

Most political leaders, both of the 
Catholic centre and the non-Com- 
munist left, believe that an anti- 
Communist campaign, to be 
effective, should be two-pronged. 
“The effort to alert the Italian 
public and to expose Communism 
as the threat it is,” one prominent 
junior statesman said, “must be 
accompanied by structural reforms. 
We must show the Italian people — 
all of them — that the democratic 
parties can give them a fair deal. As 
long as they are not convinced of 
that, the protest vote on the far left 
is bound to rise.” 

One thing is certain — in the event 
of a Red victory, the Communist 
68 


“new look” would quickly disap- 
pear. It would not be the first time 
that a country was taken in by such 
blandishments. In sjmost every one 
of the Eastern European countries 
now in the Soviet Uoc, Communism 
made its way to power with the aid 
of trusting allies. But, once the 
“Popular Front” had gained con- 
trol, the Communists turned on 
their partners and swiftly liquidated 
them. 

This happened in Poland, where 
the left-wing coalition that won 
the 1947 elections was smashed 
from within by the (ximmunists. It 
happened in Romania, where the 
“National Democratic Front” was 
bloodily transformed into a Com- 
munist dictatorship. It happened 
even in Yugoslavia, where the Com- 
munists, having conquered with the 
help of many other groups, immedi- 
ately grabbed power for themselves. 

While Italy’s Cximmunists 
promise the nation “constitutional 
guarantees” and even a multi-party 
system, there is no reason to believe 
that they could keep these promises 
even if they wanted to. For Com- 
munists are (Communists, and it is 
in the nature of the beast that it 
needs total power to survive. And 
with that total power go all the 
dreary trimmings of the merciless 
police state. Arriving at the goal of 
their conspiracy, the triumphant 
cofnrades would wipe off their 
smiles— and deal with both parmers 
and opponents according to thf 
well-known formula. 



POINTS 


TO 


PONDER 


J SPEAKER recently told a group of 
businessmen • that he would never 
promote to top level a man who was 
not making mistakes — ^and big ones at 
that. Obviously, he did not have habit- 
ual bunglers in mind. But he did ad- 
mit that business docs not look for the 
man with no faults. It wants the man 
who makes creative mistakes. 

— C. T Ryan 




Gratitude does not consist of loving 
a person who docs us a service and of 
doing him a service in return. It con- 
sists of profiting by the service that has 
been done, so that we can act as well as 
possible towards the whole of human- 
kind, and not only towards the indivi- 
dual to whom we are grateful. 

— Frederic Paulhan 


NOTICE that the wicked of this 
world usually hang together even 
when they hate each other. This is 
their strength. Good people are 
scattered, and this is their weakness. 

— ^Yevgeny Yevtushenko, 
A Preconous Autobtography (Collins, London) 


CvERY person has his own natural 
stress level at which his mind and 
body function most efficiently. Any 


forced deviation from this natural 
base-line may have ill effects. In other 
words, it is just as bad to restrain a 
naturally active, energetic person from 
going at his own intense pace as it is 
to drive a passive, bucolic individual to 
attempt peak accomplishment. 

— ^Dr. Hans Selye 


I wished to see a mountain or 
other scenery under the most favour- 
able auspices, I would go to it in foul 
weather, so as to be there when it 
cleared up; we are then in the most 
suitable mood, and nature is most 
fresh and inspiring. There is no 
serenity so fair as that which is just 
established in a tearful eye. 

— ^Henry Thoreau 


^HERE is something so curiously tick- 
ling, so warming to the foolish heart 
m the phenomenon we call coinci- 
dence. When we thus catch life m the 
very act of rhyming, our inordinate 
pleasure is a measure, perhaps, of how 
frightened we really are by the mystery 
of its uncharted seas. 

— ^Alexander Woollcott 


HAVE always disliked the phrase 
“fall in love.” I object to “fall.” It im- 
plies that we arc walking calmly along 
when suddenly— a hole, and we fall 
in ! Real love always takes time. You 
would not expect to plant a seed and 
find it full-grown overnight. It needs 
proper soil and nourishment to achieve 
its full growth and beauty. So docs 
love. 

I do not say that “love at first sight” 
may not later turn into love, just as I 
do not say the planted seed may not 
grow to maturity. I do say, though, 
that it needs time. —Dr. Murmy Banks 

69 



Meet the grey 
squirrel— acrobat, 
camouflage expert, 
gardener and 
extrovert 


Tomboy 

or THE 

Treetops 

By Jaci: Denton Scott with John Ennis 

T he grey squirrel gyrated on the 
topmost branch of a wind- 
shaken oak. Sleet had glazed the 
tree, sheathing it in slippery silver. 

Suddenly the litde animal slip- 
ped and fell, tail unfurling like a 
parachute as he plummeted down. 



Although he hit the frozen ground 
with a thump, he scampered of) 
apparently unharmed. 

To him, such a fall is nothing. 
Naturalists have observed that a 
squirrel can land as easily as a bird 
after falling for loo feet with tail 


Adspud from an article in U.5. Lady 


70 



straight out and Irgs spread to make 
the loose skin between them add to 
the air-brake effect. 

That magnificent eight-and-a- 
half-inch tail seems to be the grey 
squirrel’s most valuable asset. The 
ancient Greeks, who had a word for 
everything, named tbc squirrel 


“Shadow Tail.” Squirrels sit by the 
hour grooming this bushy appen- 
dage. They use it as a shield when 
fighting. In cold weather they wrap 
it about them like a blanket. It is 
their umbrella in the rain and para- 
sol in the sun. That tail is also the 
balance factor enabling them to 

V 



THE READER'S DIGEST January 


make i2'foot leaps from tree to tree, 
and aiding them when they mot^c 
gracefully across slender branches, 
much as an umbrella helps the 
tightrope walker. 

With perhaps the widest range 
and greatest adaptability of any 
animal, grey squirrels can survive 
on mountain or plain, in forest or 
park. 

They adjust their diet to the 
season, eating their favourite acorns 
when they are available, but other- 
wise managing with oak-catkins, 
beech-mast, cob and filbert nuts, 
walnuts, chestnuts, the seeds from 
many trees, fruits, berries, fungi, in- 
sects, birds’ eggs and uprooted blue- 
bell bulbs. 

Monica Shorten, Britain’s leading 
expert on squirrels, records that 
grey squirrels have been found on 
moorland 1,700 feet up. They have 
fallen off piers into the sea. They 
have been reported riding on the 
backs of lambs, fighting rabbits and 
hares, chewing the toes olT lead 
statues and causing short-circuits by 
scaling electricity pylons. 

Mass movements of grey squirrels 
were seen at Swanmorc, near South- 
ampton, in 1942 and 1947. Hun- 
dreds of them hurried down forest 
rides hour after hour, intent on 
some unknown destination, never 
stopping to rest or cat. Naturalisfs 
conclude that such mysterious 
movements are caused by two 
factors : lack of food and over-popu- 
lation of the species. 

The very existence of grey 


squirrels in Britain is a feat of 
adaptability. A native of North 
America, tne grey squirrel made its 
first recorded appearance in Britain 
in 1876, when a pair were taken 
as exotic pets to Henbury Park in 
Cheshire and later released. Thirty 
other small groups of American 
grey squirrels were released — or 
escaped — ^in various places up to 
1937, when importation was made 
illegal except under licence. 

The restriction came too late; 
grey squirrels have won an iron 
grip on Britain’s woodlands, de- 
lighting most people, infuriating 
others. Foresters hate them because, 
for reasons still obscure to natural- 
ists, squirrels strip the bark from 
sycamore and beech trees to get at 
the sap; this can kill a tree which 
may be worth from £y) (Rs. 400) to 
^100 (Rs. 1,300) or more. 

Sir Richard Cotterell, chairman of 
Britain’s 1953 Forestry Commission 
of Inquiry into squirrel control, pro- 
nounced, “Outlaw the little brute.- 
Throw sentiment out of the win- 
dow. Take a 12-borc gun and shoot 
at sight.” Thousands of farmers 
followed his advice, urged on by a 
government bounty of one shilling, 
soon doubled, for every squirrel tail 
handed in. As in all wars, propa- 
ganda was used; the term “tree rat’’ 
was widely but wrongly applied to 
the grey squirrel, and the disappear- 
ing red squirrel — ^just as much a pest 
in its day — was held up as a pathetic 
victim of the grey invader. 

More than a million grey squirrels 


72 



TOMBOY OF THE TREETOPS 


i^4 

were killed in five years at a cost to 
the British taxpayer of ^100,000 
(Rs. 13 lakhs). When the bounty 
was withdrawn in 1958 there were as 
many squirrels as ever: the tough 
little creature has a* way of produc- 
ing extra litters when a scarcity of 
squirrels leaves empty woodland cry- 
ing out to be occupied. Texlay the 
omcial attitude is changing. Says a 
British Ministry of Agriculture offi- 
cer who studies squirrels and their 
contnjl, “It isn’t use- 
ful to kill a squirrel. 

The great majority 
do no damage.” 

In fact, we now 
know that many a 
tree owes its exist- 
ence to nature’s own 
gardener, the squirrel 
who carefully buried 
a nut or acorn and 
forgot to dig it U|). 

C^oiitrary to gencr.il 
belief, grey squirrels 
do not store nuts for the long winter 
in one central hoard, but bury them 
haphazardly a few inches under- 
ground. Naturalist Ernest Thomp- 
son Setoii estimated that a hard- 
working grey squirrel will bury five 
nuts every three and a half minutes 
and will keep on doing this every 
morning during the three-month 
season, burying probably 10,000. 

How the squirrel finds the nuts 
again during the winter has always 
been an intriguing question. But 
most naturalists agree that its 
superior sense of smell is the main 


factor. Seton observed a grey squirrel 
dig straight down, without error or 
a trial shaft, to nuts buried under 
two feet of snow. Squirrels shell the 
nuts in an instant with two pairs of 
long, curving incisors which grow 
continuously and must be honed by 
daily use to keep at a normal 
length. 

The grey squirrel’s vision is acute, 
especially his perception of move- 
ment. His hearing, too, is thought 
to be exceptional, en- 
abling him to detect 
the snapping of a 
twig at abnormal 
distances. 

In the woods, grey 
squirrels are adept at 
camouflage, freezing 
to a tree trunk or 
lying along a branch 
and almost becoming 
a part of it. One of 
their cleverest tricks 
IS “sidling” — ^rotating 
to the opjioMte side of a tree from 
where you are. Young squirrels will 
play this game as many as 20 times 
before scampering to the treetop. 
They also seem to have a sixth sense 
to warn them of approaching dan- 
ger. Miss Shorten describes how a 
squirrel in Berkshire, England, 
moved her young to another nest 
only a few hours before the deserted 
home was blown away in a gale. 

Squirrels arc protective parents. 
When disturbed by telephone-line 
men trimming a near-by tree, a 
squirrel was seen to come tearing 

73 


raoroaBAHi. ■. a. Houmu/AwnaoB i 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


out of her tree nest, three tiny 
youngsters clinging to her back, 
their tails and arms wrapped round 
her neck in the normal infant-carry- 
ing position. With babies riding 
easily, she stopped, glaring and 
chattering at the intruders. At last 
after much scolding, she took 
refuge in a nest a quarter of a mile 
away. A squirrel mother with a 
nest of young has been known to 
drive off a hawk by hissing, chatter- 
ing, and finally rising up on her 
hind legs to box at it. 

The half-ounce young are born in 
the spring or summer, three to five 
in a litter. Blind and naked at birth, 
they are suckled in the nest for 
seven weeks before they leave, 
timidly at first, testing their footing 
in the treetops. At about ten weeks 
they are weaned, and by the age of 
five or six months they are on their 
own for their six or seven years of 
playful life; their mother often 
makes them a gift of the nest home 
and builds another for herself. 
These little spherical tree top homes 
of interwoven leaf and twig are 
mqrvels of construction, with clever- 
ly thatched rainproof rcxifs and 
twig-camouflagcd entrances. They 
are insulated with moss and bark 


and fixed into the forks of oak or 
beech trees. 

5>ome class this alert little creature 
among the most intelligent of 
animals. A. D. Middleton, the 
naturalist, has described how grey 
squirrels in Yorkshire extract the 
corn from mechanical pheasant 
feeders by pressing on the small 
wooden platform with their fore- 
paws. In city suburbs, a squirrel soon 
learns the trick of hauling up the 
string that suspends a half-coconut 
on a bird table. Despite their natural 
timidity, individual squirrels can 
become boldly tame, ratding at the 
windows of householders who pur 
out food for them and coming 
for titbits when called by their 
human friends. 

The grey squirrel is the cheeky 
tomboy of the animal world, spend- 
ing most of his time— when he isn’t 
food-hunting— dancing along a 
limb, scooting up a tree, leaping 
from branch to branch, with the 
sheer joy of life. People sit for hours 
feeding squirrels with nuts in re- 
sponse to saucy begging, tempting 
them to climb on their arms and 
perch on their shoulders. JJquirrel- 
watching will always be part of 
the rural scene. 


Vive la Difference! 

FRIEND sent over to Paris on a publicity job got into trouble several 
times because of his ignorance of local customs. One day he remarked 
ruefully, find there is a lot of difference between Paris and where I 
come from; and you notice it more in Paris than you do at home.’* 


74 



Drama in Real life 

William Gargan’s 
Finest Role 


By Carl Wall 


I N San Francisco’s Alcazar 
Theatre on an autumn night 
in i960, William Gargan, play- 
ing the role of a cancer-strickcn 
former president dt the United 
States in Gore Vidal’s The Best 
Man, intoned his closing lines: “1 
want you to pick up that phone and 
ask for Dr. Latham. Tell him to 
come quick and bring a stretcher 
because I can’t move. I’m afraid the 
old man is just about dead.” 

Gargan spoke his lines in a husky, 
tortured voice. As the curtain came 
down to shattering applause, no one 
in the theatre, including the actor 
himself, was aware that these were 
the last “stage” lines ever to be 
spoken by Gargan in a theatrical 
career stretching over 35 years. He 
would speak again, but in a far dif- 
ferent vmce; and his lines would be 
spoken in a drama more heroic, 
more demanding than any he had 
ever enacted. 

That night The Best Man ended 
Its San Francisco run, and everyone 



started packing for an opening in 
Chicago a few days later. At home, 
Gargan told his wife, Mary, of the 
sore throat that had been plaguing 
him for weeks. “Why don’t you 
see the doctor. Bill?” she said. 


75 



THE READER^S DIGEST 


“Can’t take the time,” he pro- 
tested. “Too much to be done 
before we take off for Chicago.” 

Next morning, however, the 
company’s road manager phoned to 
say that the Chicago opening had 
been postponed. Immediately, Mary 
made a phone call. “Come on. Bill,” 
she said as she hung up. “You have 
a date with a throat specialist.” 

It was the Chicago postponement 
ana Mary’s phone call that gave 
Bill his chance for life. A biopsy 
showed cancer of the larynx. 

After the first shock of almost 
nauseating fear, Gargan found him- 
self steadying. “What are the 
odds?” he asked quietly. 

The doctor studied the strong 
lines of Gargan’s face, the still 
carroty-red hair, the deep blue eyes. 
He knew that this man would want 
the whole truth. 

“The odds are better than even 
that an operation will be successful. 
Statistically, if the cancer doesn’t 
recur in five years, you’re cured.” 

“The operation means the end of 
my career, doesn’t it?” Gargan 
asked. 

“I’m afraid so. For conversational 
purposes, though, there’s a speech 
method which ” 

But Gargan was only half listen- 
ing. “And if you don’t operate?” 
he asked. 

“This form of cancer moves ter- 
ribly fast.” 

Gargan’s reaction was swift. 
“I’d like you to operate as soon 
as you can,” he said. 

76 


January 

The next evening Mary and Bill 
walked into the room reserved for 
Bill in a Los Angeles hospital. Long 
after official visiting hours they sat 
talking. They talked about the year 
Bill had won the Drama Critics 
Award for the outstanding per- 
formance of the year in Animal 
Kingdom. There were remembered 
yarns from films he had made: 
They Knew What They W anted , 
for which he was nominated for an 
Academy Award, Night Flight, 
The Bells of St. Mary’s, British 
Agent. 

There were memories of the 
childhood of their two sons, Bill 
and Leslie, now busy with jobs in 
Chicago and Hollywood. Mary and 
Bill had agreed not to notify them 
about “the opening,” as Bill called 
it. 

And there was the incident only 
a few months before. While Bill 
was rehearsing for The Best Man, 
they had taken a flat not far from 
the Sports Arena, where the Demo- 
cratic Parly was holding a conven- 
tion to nominate a candidate for the 
Presidency of the United States. As 
they sat watching the convention 
on television, there was a knock 
at the door and a voice asked, 
“Mind if I come in and watch your 
television? The one in our apart- 
ment upstairs just broke down.” 
And so it had been in the Gargan 
living-room that John Kennedy first 
learned of his nomination for the 
Presidenev. 

It was nearly midnight when the 



WILUAM GARGAN'S FINEST ROLE 


1964 

head nurse brought the Gargan’s 
reminiscences to a close. As Mary 
kissed him good night, Bill mur- 
mured, “You’re a saint, darling. I 
love you.” Those were the last 
words she was to hear in the voice 
she knew so well. 

The week following the operation 
was probably the most dismal in 
Bill Gargan’s 55 years. A broad- 
shoulder^, husky six-foot-one, he 
had always kept himself in con- 
dition with top-grade tennis and 
bettcr-than-average golf. To a laugh- 
ing ex*^rovert with a keen Irish wit, 
the world of illness and hospitals 
was strange. 

During his career as an actor he 
had earned over a million dollars. 
But the cost of living, high taxes 
and generous hand-outs had dimin- 
ished his fortune. Where, he won- 
dered did an actor without a voice 
go from here? One afternoon, while 
Mary was visiting him, he reached 
for the pad and pencil with which 
he communicated and scrawled the 
words, “Why, Mary? Why?” 
Tears coursed along the deep fur- 
rows in his cheeks. Holding him 
close she murmured, “You’re still 
alive, my darling, and we must be 
thankful for that. Don’t you see 
that it’s a kind ot miracle? If it 
hadn’t been caught in time . . . 
Maybe God has saved you for a 
purpose.” 

One afternoon, soon after he had 
left the hospital. Bill had a surprise 
caller, an attractive young woman. 


“I’m a volunteer worker for the 
American Cancer Society,” she ex- 
plained. “A friend of yours asked 
me to call on you, Mr. Gargan.” 
(The friend was Mary, but she 
didn’t mention that.) Bill’s first 
thought was that this woman had 
one of the sexiest voices he had ever 
heard — very low, with a peculiar 
vibrant quality. He wondered if 
she was some new actress he should 
know. 

“Your friend thought,” she con- 
tinued, “that you might be inter- 
ested in speech lessons.” 

Gargan almost sprang from his 
chair. Was this some sort of joke? 
Sensing his anger, the young 
woman removed the scarf she wore 
round her neck. In the hollow of 
her throat was the incision of a 
laryngectomy — identical to his 
own! 

He scrambled for the pad. ”Hou/ 
do you talk?” he scrawled. 

“It’s known as oesophageal 
speech,” she explained. Gargan re- 
called now that the throat specialist 
had said something about “conver- 
sational speech.” Before he could 
write another question, however, 
the girl took from her bag a small 
blue pamphlet. Gargan turned to 
the first page. “To the laryngecro- 
mized patient,” he read, “the reali- 
zation that normal speech has been 
destroyed is always frightening. 
Much of the sting can be alleviated 
by the skill of the oesophageal voice 
instructor.” 

“Much of the sting . . .” That 

77 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


was the understatement of the cen- 
tury. His eyes were blinded by tears 
of sudden hope. On his pad he 
wrote, “You have a pupil.** 

Through the ACS, Gargan en- 
rolled in an oesophageal-speech class 
in Los Angeles. The instructor ex- 
plained the principles. In the normal 
person, the sound of the voice is 
projected by the vocal cords of the 
larynx. When this “voice box*’ is 
removed, the windpipe is severed 
and grafted to a hole, about an inch 
in diameter, cut low in the throat 
just above the breastbone. It is 
through this hole that the laryngec- 
tomee breathes. 

The secret in oesophageal speech 
is to take air into the mouth and 
swallow or force it into the oeso- 
phagus by locking the tongue to 
the roof of the mouth. When the air 
is forced back up, it causes the walls 
of the oesophagus and pharynx to 
vibrate. This action vibrates the 
column of air in the passage, caus- 
ing a low-pitched sound. This sound 
can be formed into understandable 
words by the lips, tongue and teeth. 
“It’s really a sort of controlled burp- 
ing,*’ the instructor explained. 

To produce gas in the stomach, 
beginners usually drink huge quan- 
tities of ginger ale. During his first 
lessons. Bill dutifully swallowed 
quart after quart, but there was 
nothing but unintelligible hic- 
cups. For an actor who had once 
been able to make a stage whisper 
carry to the most remote balcony 
seat, it was humiliating. 

7S 


lanmry 

But at last, after hours of trial, he 
produced that first all-important 
“ba.” And at the end of the fourth 
week, he was able to say simple 
phrases such as, “I will speak,” 
“Good morning” and “Good-bye.” 
Day and night he practised, recit- 
ing parts from plays, mumbling the 
heady poetry of Shakespeare. 

At the end of the sixth week, he 
pardy told, pardy scribbled to 
Mary, “I have a difficult line, dar- 
ling — ^with an ‘h’ sound. When 
you’re able to understand it I’ll 
know I’m in.” 

It was not undl the nth week 
that Mary was finally able to inter- 
pret the phrase. Somewhat baffled, 
she repeated the words : “Heap big 
coconuts ! ** 

“Heap big coconuts!” Bill re- 
peated joyfully. It was the first line 
he had ever spoken on the stage — 
playing in Aloma of the South 
Seas. 

Mary, suddenly remembering, 
threw her arms round him. “It’s a 
wonderful line. Chief,” she cried. 
“Heap big talk I” 

After 1 6 weeks. Bill was formally 
graduated from his speech class. By 
that time he was unusually articu- 
late. Miraculously, his voice actu- 
ally seemed to have some of the 
resonant timbre of his stage days. 
Even more important, his confi- 
dence had returned. He began to 
reactivate his television knd film 
production company. 

Then the American Cancer 
Society approached him, to ask if he 



WILUAM GARGAN^S FINEST ROLE 


1964 

would accept assignments as an un- 
paid volunteer to help other cancer 
victims. In gratitude for his own 
speech lessons, he agreed. 

His first assignment was to visit 
a veteran character actor who, since 
losing his voice, had become so de- 
pressed that he had given up hope. 
Hopping on a plane, Gargan was 
at the man's home within hours. 
His first words were, “Now when 
the hell did they cut your throat?” 

It is impossible for a laryngecto- 
mee to laugh; but slowly the actor’s 
face creased into a grin and his 
stomach heaved silently. He ges- 
tured helplessly. With that the two 
men threw their arms round each 
other, both heaving uproariously. 
Before the session ended, the actor 
agreed to attend an ocsophageal- 
spccch class in Los Angeles. As Gar- 
gan said later, “One lousy wisecrack 
and he was on his feel again.” 

On the plane home. Bill found 
his thoughts moving along unex- 
pected lines. He began adding up 
the years, the pluses, the minuses, 
the sad years, the laughing years. 
“It didn’t take me long to realize,” 
he remembfrs, “that 1 was hope- 
lessly in debt to God. And now God 
was giving me these bonus years of 
life. What was I going to do with 
them?” 

As the plane came down on to the 
landing strip, his conviction took 
shape. William Gargan, Unpaid 
Voluntary Worker — ^that would be 
his billing from then on. It might 
be only a small part, but in the 


years remaining to him, he would 
give it everything he had. 

In the following months, Gargan 
worked his personal therapy on 
scores of cancer patients. He had a 
very small income, so travelling ex- 
penses became a major problem. 
When the American Cancer Society 
insisted on paying these expenses, 
he finally agreed, but still travelled 
as cheaply as possible. He told them, 
“Somewhere there may be a small 
research project only a few hundred 
dollars away from an important 
discovery. The dollars I save may 
make the difference.” 

Early in 1962 the national 
headquarters of ACS asked him to 
come to New York to speak to a 
group of patients at the U.S. 
National Hospital for Speech Dis- 
orders. There Gargan gave one of 
the finest performances of his life. 
He told of his own early difficulties 
in mastering oesophageal speech, of 
the gallons of ginger ale consumed 
in vain. “Finally,” he said, “I tried 
a little Scotch and found that a tea- 
spoon now and then worked won- 
ders with my vocabulary.” 

For a finale he told the story 
about the foreign concert violinist 
who lost his way to New York’s 
Carnegie Hall. Hugging his violin, 
he approached a *bearded beatnik. 
“Could you tell me, please, how one 
gets to Carnegie Hall?” he queried. 
The beatnik regarded him lan- 
guidly, then finally drawled, “Prac- 
tise man! Practise!” “And that,” 
Gargan concluded, “is the way it is 

79 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


with oesophageal speech.” The men 
and women in the audience, all 
laryngectomees, quivered in silent 
laughter. For many, it was the first 
attempt at laughter for months. 

In die past two years, Gargan has 
journeyed more than 350,000 miles 
across the United States and Canada 
to'talk to groups of fellow laryngec- 
tomees, visit cancer patients, speak 
before service clubs, women's clubs 
and fund-raising rallies. In that time, 
ACS officials estimate, he has been 
heard by at least 250,000 people and 
additional millions on radio and 
television. The result has been a 
shower of contributions for the 
ACS — and immeasurable help to 
individual cancer victims. 

Gargan is always available. One 
evening in a New York restaurant 
a young man approached his table 
and said that his father, a retired 
detective, had recently undergone a 
laryngectomy. “He’s read about you 
in the papers,” the youth said, “and 
he’d get a big kick out of it if you 
autographed this menu.” Bill 
learned that the father was feeling 


terribly low because his wife had 
just died. The next day, scheduled 
to leave for California, Bill left his 
hotel three hours earlier than 
planned and spent the time with 
the detective in his home. 

Last year while in Washington 
to speak at an ASC fund-raising 
dinner, Gargan received a phone 
call from the White House. 
“The President wants to know if 
you could come over for a few 
minutes,” the speaker asked. At the 
White House, President Kennedy 
rose from behind his desk. 

“Learned you were in town when 
I saw your picture in the paper this 
morning,” he said. “I just wanted 
to say hallo.” He paused, then 
added, “I wanted to wish you good 
luck in the great job you’re doing.” 

At that moment, even with the 
miracle of oesophageal speech, Bill 
Gargan was unable to utter a word 
Then his face broke into a smile. ■ 

“Thank you, Mr. President,” he 
managed at last, remembering to 
arch his tongue high for that 
difficult “th” sound. 


Figures of Fun 

Film comedienne ]oan Blondeirs husband always advised her to sub- 
tract five years from her age for publicity purposes. So she subtracted five 
from the year of her birth, 1914, and that’s why her birth date now is 
listed in a film “Who’s Who” as 19^ 9. --W. j. 

Author Fr^nk Scully once had an important lunch date with Louis B. 
Mayer, then head of M-G-M. “How did it go?” Scully’s wife asked when 
he returned home. “Fifty-fifty,” reported Frank. “I showed up and 
Mayer didn’t.” — Stewart Harral 


80 



THE ART OF 
RELAXATION 


Bv WiLHiRj> Peterson 


M odern man must learn to 
break the tensions of daily 
living or the tensions will 
break him. He must learn to bend 
with the stresses and strains like a 
tree in the wind, and spring erect 
again after the storm has passed. 

I le first relaxes his mind by think- 
ing thoughts of peace, quietness and 
ir.inquillity. He mentally pictures 
the [ilacid pool amid whisficring 
pines and puts himself in tune with 
nature’s calming mood. 

He strives to carry an inner seren- 
ity with him so that even amid a 
whirl of activity he will not lose his 
|ioisc. 

He relaxes his bcxlv by imitating 
a la/y person — a boy on the beach 
tn the sun, a man in a boat fishing. 
1 le takes a tip from the circus clown 
who says that he avoids being in- 
jured in his tumbles by making his 
body become “like an old rag doll.'* 


He exercises — walks, stretches, 
works in the garden, plays golf — 
knowing that physical tiredness in- 
vites relaxation and sleep. 

He knows that confusion is one of 
the chief causes of tension, so he or- 
ganizes his work, puts first things 
first, docs one thing at a time, avoids 
hurry and develops a spaciousness 
of mind. 

He uses the soothing beauty of 
great music to calm his nerves. 

He observes that a smile is a sym- 
bol of relaxation, so he learns not to 
take himself too serif »usly and to 
laugh at himself now and then. 

He takes time for meditation. He 
accepts the wi.se counsel of Emerson 
who wrote : “Place yourself in the 
middle of the stream of power and 
wisdom which animates all whom 
it floats, and you are without effort 
impelled to truth, to right and a 
perfect contentment.” 


8i 



By Russ Morison 


My Business is 
Selling Dreams 

iVhdt an estate agent has disanwed about house-hunters 



W i\v\ '\i)\ walk inlcj in\ 
estate ajyciil’s olTicc 1 
know' what you want to 
buy— not a house, but a dream, a 
way ot life. liefore I look up from 
my desk to greet you, 1 know how 
you’ll describe your dream : a house 
111 a nice neighbourhood, not Uk) far 
fnan a school, with four bed- 
RKims, a big living-room, a 
modern kitchen, at least 
two b.iths— at price 
S||V well under the market 
W % value of such a place. 


1 could tell vou dial evintii.illv 
you’ll settle for less, j^ay more and 
be overjoyed .it your good fortune, 
but I won't, because you'd go to my 
comfietitcjrs. Instead I listen and try 
to practise the |)erception w'hich sells 
houses, becauM' I know that in IcKik- 
mg for a house you’re seeking 
hajipincss, success, security, respect, 
be.iutv, comfort- -intangibles as in 
dividual as the shape of your nc'se. 

I')uring 26 years in the estate 


Cundtnsed fiom The (IhttsUan Science Monitor 


MY BUSINESS IS SELUNG DREAMS 


agent’s business, I’ve learnt that it is 
the wife who generally buys a house. 
Since I’m a husband this makes me 
uncomfortable, but the fact is that 
a good many house-hunters are 
women whose husbands don’t even 
know their wives arc looking. Her- 
bert thinks his home is his castle, 
but Marian is spending her after- 
noons with me looking for a new 
one. She’ll find it. 

When a man is transferred to a 
new district by his company, he will 
often buy a house before his wife 
arrives on the scene. Such deals arc 
g<K)d for me — they are quick, deci- 
sive, logical and masculine. 

Kut Q5 per cent of these pur- 
chases turn out to be mistakes. The 
wife won’t like the cupboards or 
the kitchen or the dog next door, 
and in less than two years I’ll pick 
up another commission selling her 
the house she wants. 

I know that an estate agent s(>me- 
times makes you angry when he 
showsyou a 25,(xx)-dollar house after 
you have firmly declared that your 
top limit IS 17,500 dollars, or when 
hf offers you an old house with a 
Victorian kitchen and no garage 
when you have said that you have a 
modern house in mind. But this is 
often the only way he can find out 
what you’ll really buy. Experience 
makes him discount what you say. 
“1 don’t want to make a show; I 
just want a nice little home,” could 
mean that you’re in the market for 
the fanciest showplace in town. 
‘One thing I know is construction; 


my house has to be basically well- 
built,” may mean that you’ll buy a 
jerry-built heap that’s dressed up 
with fake pine-panelling and imita- 
tion brick — if it fits your dream. 

You don’t intend to mislead me; 
you mean what you say when you 
come into my office, for then you’re 
logical, sensible, reasonable. You re- 
main that way until you fall in love 
with “the house.” Then you have as 
much logic as a bride and groom. 
Love is blind and if you can afford 
your dream, vou’ll probably buy it. 
And if vou can’t afford it, you’ll 
probably buy anyway. 

When 1 take you out house-hunt- 
ing, I’ll spend hour.c talking about 
taxes, plumbing, beating bills, insu- 
lation, resale value, school facilities, 
but I know you’ll forget it all when 
you see your sfieci.il house. 

Everyone feels something differ- 
ent about a house. A creaky, old- 
fashioned veranda to tine buyer 
brings back the memory of summer 
holidays at (Jrandmother's; a mud- 
dy back yard becomes a welcoming 
patio in another purchaser’s eye; a 
leafy apple tree sprouts an imagi 
nary swing and one hears the 
laughing children. 

Most women spend a lot of time 
telling us the equipment they want 
in the kitchen, the need for built-in 
cupboards and a downstairs lava- 
tory, but many of them buy the 
outside of a house. 

One woman told me recently, “I 
can see myself in this house.” We 
were still sitting in the car. It had 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


taken her about 13 seconds to 
decide. It took her three weeks to 
get her husband to sign the papers, 
but that house was sold before we 
went up the front steps. 

It’s always hard for someone else 
to see what you like in a house, and 
that’s the mam reason you should 
house-hunt without friends or fami- 
ly. Parents, especially, should never 
go along when their married chil- 
dren buy a house. The older gener- 
ation never fails to compare today’s 
facts with yesterday’s memories. 
The house bought a generation ago 
has always grown larger with the 
years while the price has shrunk. If 
the young people arc wise, they 
sneak out alone and buy their own 
home. 

If you want to buy shrewdly, you 
should arm yourself against your 
weaknesses when you look at 
houses. If you fall m love with a 
large expanse of lawn, remember to 
look critically inside the house; if 
you are entranced by the large 
rooms, be sure to study the garden 
carefullv. Once the estate agent 
realizes you have a weakness he 
may try to exploit it. If you want to 
buy a roaring fireplace, he’ll show 
you roaring fireplaces by the dozen 
and you could end up paying more 
money for less house. 

When you put your own house on 
the market, it pays to paint the back 
steps, mend dnpping taps, nail 
down that Uxise floorboard, but you 
can’t expect to get a return on all 
your major improvements. 

84 


It’s a good idea for you to be out 
when the buyer comes through. 
And please take your animals and 
children with you. I once had a pros- 
pective buyer who was allergic to 
cats and I lost my sale because the 
seller’s cat rubbed up against her. 
Some time ago a householder’s 
four-year-old daughter informed 
my clients, “That’s where the roof 
leaked,” “It’s always cold up on this 
floor.” 

If you are present and passion- 
ately show off the good points of 
the house the buyer’s reaction 
usually is, “What’s wrong with il^^ 
There must be something; she’s too 
anxious to sell.” 

The chances arc that after you sell 
your house and go out to buy 
another, you won’t understand why 
prices are so high. They’re high be- 
cause a man's dream house is always 
beyond his means; his fine forget- 
tery for the faults of the home he 
has sold isn’t so complete that he 
doesn’t want something far better 
the next time. The marvellous 
thing IS that so often his means seem 
able to stretch to accommodate his 
dreams. My customers tell me their 
absolutely top price and then fall 
in love with the house which costs 
4,(KX) dollars more — and they buy it. 

It is their dream come true and 
they’ll live happily ever after, or 
until they have a new dream and 
start looking for a new house. 
That’s what makes the estate agent’s 
business so puzzling, perplexing — 
and profitable. 





ASP/LIC-Z- 


HAVe YOU TAKEN THESE 

FOUR 


STEPS 

TO PROTECT YOUR BABYP 





Vaccinate your' baby before he (or 
she) is six months oid. 

TRIPLE VAGCmATNNI: 

A triple vaccine against diphtheria, 
whooping cough and tetanus is to be 
given when the baby is between six 
months and twelve months old. Give a 
booster dose when the child is three 
yeais and another when he (or she) 
IS five 

POLIO VAGCIIIATION: 

Polio vaccine is given in three doses— 
the first when the babv is six months 
old. the second after four weeks and 
tne third after eight months. 





LIFE INSURANCE: 

Provide for your child’s higher education by means of an Educational Insurance 
Policy. Premiums can be paid in easy, convenient instalments. It is best to take 
the policy when the child is between one year and five years old, so that pre- 
miums ./vill be low. The full policy amount will be paid even if the father does 
not live long enough to pay all the premiums. No other form of savings offers 
your children this advantage. 


Any Life Insurance Agent will be 
happy to give you details of this 
scheme Or write *o the Public 
Relations Officer, Life Insurance 
Corporation cf India, Jeevan 
Kendra, Jamshedji Tata Road, 
Bomb,., 1. 





Toscanini’s rehearsals were fiercely 
concentrated and intense. “Every re- 
hearsal is like a concert to me,” he 
said, “and every concert like a dAut.” 
He often sang with the orchestra in 
a strangely cracked voice, low and 
hoarse. He sometimes forgot about 
this habit. 

Once, in Sal/burg, during a tense 
tiress rehearsal, his voice howled out 
above the instruments. He halted the 
orchestra in amazem<*nt. “For the love 
of God,” he cried, “who is singing 
here.?” 

--Howard Taubman, Afiiur on My B^’at 


Jfan Goctkau, in his uniform of the 
French Academy, complete with sword 
and three cornered hat, attended an 
ollicial l)anc]uet. Near him sat an 
American general who gazed aston^ 
ished at the unfamiliar uniform. Final- 
ly, with militarv terseness he asked, 
“Panzer troops? 

In just as military a fashion ( xicteau 
snapped, “No. (jenius.” 

— AUgememe Zeitung, Hanover 


Lire many other scholarly men, 
Michael Ramsey, Archbishop of Can- 
terbury, has long been noted for his 
absent-mindedness. The landlady of a 


house where he once dwelt as a young 
curate recalls hearing a knock at the 
door one day as she was straighten- 
ing up his room. Assuming it was 
someone seeking her lodger, she called 
out, “Mr. Ramsey’s not here He’s 
gone out.” 

“Oh, yes. Yes, of course,” came the 
reply. “Thank you very much.” 

The landlady realized the voice was 
Ramsey's. She reached the door just as 
he was turning away. 

— James Simp&on The Hundredth 
Archbishop of Canterbury 


Press coneerences in Washington can 
often be longwinded and pointless, but 
those held by Sam Rayburn, as Speaker 
of the House of Representatives, were 
short and to the point. When he had 
assembled reporters for what turned 
out to be his last news conference, he 
said, “You knt'w how things were 
yesterday^” 

“Yes, Mr. Speaker,” we chorused. 

“Well,” said Sam, “they’re the same 
today.” — (/corRC Disop 


H. G. Wells was showing a friend his 
beautiful new home in London. On 
the third floor he opened the iloor to 
a small room and said, “Here is my 
bedroom.” 

“Why don’t you use those handsome 
bedrooms downstairs?” the triend 
asked. 

“They belong to my housc^maid and 
my cook,” Wells replied. “They’ve 
been with me 20 years.” 

“But in most homes the scrvanls 
have the small r(X)nis,” the friend per- 
sisted. 

“That’s why mine haven’t,” Wells 
answered. “My mother was a maid in 
a London house.” — Fhsabeth Cobb 

S? 




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88 



I Love a 
Niceir^Liar 





fVhat every woman wants . . . 
deserves . . . needs ... is a great, big, 
rose-coloured Jib now and then 


By Hiij)ecarde Dolson 


I N A THEATRE foyCf TCCCntly, 

I spotted an attractive man I 
hadn’t seen for ten years. 
“David!” I cried. He stared at me 
so blankly I felt crushed; but when 
I muttered my name, he exclaimed 
warmly, “Hildcgardc! I would 
never have recognized you — ^you 
look so much youngerr As he left 

Condensed i 


us, and I was looking after him 
with the eyes of an intoxicated doc, 
my escort said, “He certainly got 
out of that one nicely.” 

He certainly did. And I would 
now follow that charming liar to 
the ends of the earth. 

Perhaps Tm particularly suscepti- 
ble to a good cover-up job because, 

m McCedVs 


89 


THE RE ADEEMS DIGEST 


in my youth, I had a daily dose of 
candour from a schoolfricnd named 
Manbellc. You know how they 
sometimes say of somebody, “She’s 
so honest it hurts” ? That was Mari- 
bclle. I still bear the scars. 

I remember the afternoon my 
mofhtr had taken a group of us 
swimming. When I appeared in my 
bathing suit, Maribellc surveyed me 
thoughtfully with unblinking blue 
eyes. “Goodness, you’re bony!” she 
said in a voice as clear as rock 
crystal. “Your chest looks like the 
slats in a Venetian blind.” 

I think we like most being fibbed 
to about our weakest points — and 
this gives my flatterers an awfully 
wide range. For instance, when I 
go to a party and try to launch small 
talk, It displaces its own weight and 
we sink with all hands aboard. So 
I’n \carning to meet a fellow guest 
who will say, “You’re the wittiest 
girl I’ve met since Madame de 
Stacl.” 

In fact, if ever I can afford a 
gigolo, his duties will consist mostly 
of coming out every hour on the 
hour, like a cuckoo cl(x:k, saying, 
“You’re so witty.” For an encore, 
he might add, “You lovely, long- 
limbed creature, you- -and so witty, 
to boot.” ^ 

When I give presents, chosen and 
wrapped with tremulous care, 1 
want to be told : “You have a genius 
for picking the right things!” All 
too often the loved one examines 
the object and asks, “What’s it sup- 
posed to be.? ’ When I explain 

CO 


proudly it’s a combination paper* 
weight and one-cup cider press, he 
remarks, “The things manufactur- 
ers think of for mugs to buy.” What 
he should say, instead, is: “Who 
but you would ever have had the 
patience to track down such a de- 
lightful novelty.?” 

The clothes I choose for myself 
are another vulnerable point. If I 
wear something I already know is a 
disaster, I want to be told reassur- 
ingly, “That dress does something 
for you.” Never mind what it does, 
I’m not the petty sort who analyses 
a compliment for hidden meanings. 
All I want is a big fat white lie to 
hold on to. 

Last spring, in a moment of 
madness, I bought a hat made of 
piled-high yellow blossoms, rising to 
a peak just short of Mount Everest. 
Reflected in the mirror, artfully lit 
and with the musical accompani- 
ment of a salesgirl’s, “Most women 
couldn’t wear that, but you carry it 
off with an air,” I swallowed it 
whole. But when I put on the hat at 
home and said scornfully, “Mirror, 
mirror, on the wall, who’s the 
fairest of them all.?” the mirror 
could not lie. 

My date, bless him, was made 
from a finer mould. True, at first 
sight he did let out .m involuntary 
grunt, but he recovered instantly. 
“Do you like it?” I asked anxiously. 
**lt s — It’s really unusual,” he said, 
perspiring manfully. “Fve never 
seen you look so— uh— flowery.” 
He lied like a gentleman, and I 




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9 ' 


THE READER'S DIGEST 


accepted it like a lady— lock, stock 
and barrel. 

The tireder I am, the more I want 
to be told I’m looking divine, radi- 
ant, wonderful. And the older I get, 
the more I appreciate a friend of 
mine who was born in Vienna and 
still retains the Continental graces. 
As surely as dew falls or birds sing, 
he can be counted on to say, in 
greeting, “You’re looking marvel- 
lous.’’ 

Only once have I known him to 
falter. This was when he came to 
visit me in hospital, where I had 
landed with a nasty sinus infection. 
As he entered the sickroom he was 
already saying suavely, “How good 

to see you You’re looking ’’ but 

at that moment he caught sight of 
me, as 1 raised my bulbous red snout 
and squinted hopefully through 
swollen eyes, waiting for honey. For 
a second or two, he was speechless. 


Then he said with great tenderness, 
“Your face looks fuller. It’s marvel- 
lously becoming.” 

Every hospital should keep a liar 
like that on ^e staff, for therapeutic 
reasons. 

My doctor is entirely too blunt. 
When I go to see him, complaining 
of sharp twinges, and bravely sug- 
gest I must have some exotic ail- 
ment, he snorts : “It's rheumatism. 
What did you expect at your age.? 
You’ll probably have it the rest of 
your life.” How easy it would be 
for him to say instead : “With your 
remarkable resilience, you can be 
cured in a week. How I wish all my 
patients had your cheery Spartan 
courage.” For that, he could have 
my heart’s blood. 

They say flattery is only skin- 
deep, but that’s deep enough for 
me. Truth is what I feel in my 
bones, like rheumatism. 



92 


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Mrs. Wilson. Ask. -Contributed by Llewellyn Hall 

Small children hung in a new housing estate in Bergen, Norway, 
were having difficulty in finding thrir way home because all the houses 

of parents it was decided to attach photo- 
graphs of the mothers to the front doors. 



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94 



All Quiet at Little Rock 

(hur a hvu'ord for rarial intoieramr, 

« « 

Jjtlfr Rorh' has madr a rcmarLahla ihond 
rrcturry lias i^miwanity arhirrnnrnt i\ a 


By Joe Alex Mobris 

O NE OF THE most hopcful 
I chapters in the struggle 
against racial segregation in 
the United States can be summed 
up in two photographs of teenage 
girls. The first picture, taken in 
1957, made headlines that damaged 
U.S. prestige all over the world. It 
•shows 1 5 -year-old Rlizabeth Eck- 
ford gazing hopelessly at a platoon 
of Arkansas National (luardsmen 
barring her from entering high 
school in the city of Little Rock. 

The second picture, taken in 1963, 
created no more than a mild ripple 
of interest anywhere. It shows an- 
other 15-year'old girl, Jacquelyne 
Faye F.vans, an A student, who had 
just been elected to the high-school 
National Honour Society in the 
same city of Little Rock. 

The significance of the two pic- 
tures, of course, is that both Eliza- 
beth Eckford and jacquelyne Evans 
arc Negroes. 

The contrasting experiences of 


r ttthey slrijr-fnrn ( hit's 


two teenagers may seem unimpor- 
tant in a city of 135,000. But the 
photographs illuminate a great 
change in the community itself— a 
change that may also occur in the 
next few years in other strife-torn 
cities like Birmingham, Alabama; 
or Jackson, Mississippi. 

In 1957, bitter racial prejudice 
inflamed by ambitious politicians 
plunged a leaderlessLittle Rock into 
rear and mob violence and threat- 
ened economic disaster fw the com- 
munitv.Bv 19(13, parks, golf courses, 
cinemas, buses, baseball park, 
hospital, library, the largest shop 
lunch counters and rest-rooms, the 
big hotels, the local medical society 
and the schools were wholly (jt 
partly integrated. Some “white” 
churches have opened their dtxirs to 
Negroes. Visiting African oihcials 
have been welcomed — and often en- 
tertained — without duscrinrunation 
in “notorious" Little Rock. 

Significantly, the city is blooming 

95 



THE READER'S DIGEST January 


again economically. Building con- 
struction doubled from 21 million 
dollars in 1961 to 43 million in 1962. 
Department-store sales jumped 
eight per cent in the first half of 
1963. Seven new factories are being 
built or are scheduled for construc- 
tion this year in the city’s handsome 
industrial park. 

Yet not everything is perfect in 
Little Rock. Segregationists and 
deep-seated racial prejudice do not 



Little Roil{, 7957 A soldier proteits two 
Negroes threatened hy white students 


suddenly vanish. A majority of citi- 
i.cns give ground reluctantly and 
only when pushed. Yet Little Rock 
has made a remarkable moral and 
economic comeback that may pro- 
vide a blueprint for other cities 
facing integration crises. 

'1 o understand how the comeback 
was achieved, look back to 1957. 
Then a growing, prosperous city, 
Little Rock had a plan for gradual 
school integration that the citizens 
accepted by voting two-to-one for 

9/) 


school-board members favouring it. 
But southern segregationist organ- 
izations decided to make Little Rock 
a testing ground. With the help of 
the Arkansas legislature, they 
stirred up mob demoitftrations that 
prompted President Eisenhower to 
send the loist Airborne Division to 
protect nine Negro students enter-* 
ing Central High SchcKil. The next 
year, Governor Orval Faubus or- 
dered all four city high schools to 
be closed indefinitely to prevent 
integration. Dazed and frightened, 
citizens of Little Rock found that 
their city had become a symbol of 
intolerance and prejudice in the eyes 
of the whole world. 

The result was economic par- 
alysis. For almost four years not a 
single large factory was built. The 
number of new families moving 
into Little Rock dr(>pped from 
about 2,000 a year to fewer than 
1,400. The sale and rental of homes 
dwindled by 20 per cent. 

Merchants and professional men 
who urged moderation were boy- 
cotted by .segregationists. Over a 
five-year period the Pulitzer Prize- 
winning Arkansas Gazette lost an 
estimated 2-5 million dollars and 15 
per cent of :ls circulation. “The fear 
of boycott paralysed every effort at 
constructive leadership,'’ a promin- 
ent businc.ssman said later. “It was 
as if we lived in a police state.” 

It was the women who made the 
first constructive move, in the un- 
happy autumn of 1958. Mrs. D. I*). 
Terry, a distinguished fighter for 


1^4 

human rights, telephoned several 
friends, who telephoned still others. 
They all met at the Terry home 
to form the Women’s Emergency 
Committee, its objective the re- 
opening of the high schools. “We 
organized women all over the city 
into a kind of telephone chain so 
that we could reach thousands of 
people in a few hours,” Mrs. John 
Samuel, executive secretary, ex- 
plained recently. “We mailed out 
•leaflets. We got other organizations ^ 
to work. We grew to around 2,oof) 
volunteers of all economical ievds.” 

There were rough moments. 
Anonymous telephone calls con- 
veyed dire warnings to the women. 
One caller threatened to burn the 
Terry home. State police appca*'cd 
at a board member’s house and de- 
manded the committee membership 
rolls, suggesting that otherwise they 
would make a few arrests. The 
woman bluntly refused, and the 
police went away. 

Progress was slow and often 
painful. In November 1958, the 
committee helped to elect three 
moderates to the school board, but 
three avowed segregationists were 
also elected. Then in the spring of 
1959 committee got a break. The 
segregationists on ihe schcxil board, 
with the backing of Faubus, refused 
to re-engage about 40 principals and 
teachers they regarded as “soft” on 
the integration issue. The purge 
brought cries of outrage and pro- 
voked businessmen into action that 
resulted in the recall (removal from 


UTTLE ROCK 

office) of the three segregationist 
members. 

That victory was the turning 
point for Little Rock. From then 
on, businessmen took a far more 
active hand in the struggle. Infor- 
mal and unpublicizcd committees 
raised money and united leading 
citizens behind a moderate pro- 
gramme. Most important action of 
all, perhaps, was by the elected but 
unpaid City Board of Directors, 



[.it tie \c^ro and white 

ift'f tjtois enjov it hi,^ehail gunie side /'\ side 


which among other things reorgan- 
ized and improved the police force. 

When the high schools reopened 
in August 1959, several hundred 
segregationists marched on Central 
High School. The police quickly 
dispersed them. A month later, 
school-board offices were dyna- 
mited. Police quickly exposed the 
plot, hatched by a member of the 
regregationist Capital Citizen’s 
Council, and arrested four dyna- 
miters who were convicted. That 

97 


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ALL QUIET AT 

practically finished the Citizen’s 
. Council. 

Reopening the schools, however, 
was only the first essential step in 
the comeback of Little Rock. Civic 
improvement was next. About 40 
business leaders got together to pro- 
mote modernization and plan for 
the future. As a result, some 500 
million dollars of public money and 
private funds has been or soon will 
be spent on slum clearance, redevel- 
opment and housing projects. A 
new 50-million-dollar highway com- 
plex has speeded up traffic in and 
out of the business district. The 
dredging of the Arkansas River for 
navigation is expected to bring river 
ships and a big economic boost to 
Little Rock by 1968. 

All such developments began to 
restore confidence and bolster busi- 
ness. But the basic problem of in- 
tegration still had to be faced. So, 
in 1961, a group of Negro profes- 
sional men and businessmen, co- 
operating with the bi-racial Council 
on Human Rights, decided to seek 
desegregation of parks and recrea- 
tion centres. They were fobbed off 
by city officials, but when they went 
to court to force action the munici- 
pal government purposely failed to 
respond. A federal district court 
judge then ordered the facilities 
(except for swimming pools) to be 
desegregated. It was done peace- 
fully. 

Progress was made in desegrega- 
tion of lunch counters in town, 
when students at Little Rock’s 


UTTLE ROCK 

Philander Smith College got busy. 
They studied the city’s “power 
structure” and began trying to es- 
tablish a line of communication to 
the most influential businessmen in 
the community. At the same time, 
they held mass meetings on the col- 
lege campus and in November 1962, 
as the Christmas shopping rush ap- 
proached, organized a sit-in cam- 
paign at a big store lunch counter. 

Promptly, bv prearrangement, 
seven prominent businessmen met 
to plan for action. Still fearful of 
segregationist boycotts, they formed 
an anonymous negotiating commit- 
tee, which engineered an agreement 
to desegregate the four large store 
lunch counters and two hotels on 
January 2, ‘1963. At that time a 
programme would be drawn up 
for desegregation of theatres and 
other facilities. 

That January, a carefully con- 
trolled programme was started with 
two Negroes eating at each lunch 
counter for several days. No inci- 
dents occurred. So quiet and smooth 
was the desegregation that it was 
several days before the Capital Citi- 
zen’s Council leaders learned of it 
and sent pickets with anti-Negro 
signs to the stores. They were ig- 
nored. Hotel dining-rooms were also 
desegregated. TKc negotiators then 
moved on to the next objectives — 
cinemas, restaurants and motels. 

The most important goal— and 
perhaps the most difficult— is better 
Job opportunities for Negroes. Some 
businessmen have taken preliminary 

99 



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AIX QUIET AT UTTLE ROCK 


steps t^ut Negroes in jobs as clerks 
and office workers^ and the influ- 
ence of the “anonymous” commit- 
tee is so great that it is unlikely this 
vitally important economic gain will 
be delayed. Most significant of all, 
the line of communication between 
the city’s power structure and the 
young Negro leaders has remained 
open, and both sides intend to keep 
It open to solve future problems. 

Although at this moment there 
arc hardly more than loo Negroes 
in the formerly all-white high 
schools, and in elementary schools 
desegregation has only now begun, 
the school board, prodded by its 
liberal members, speeded up in- 
tegration in the 1962-63 term. And 
to students, school integration is 
“old hat.” J. W. Matthews, Central 
High School principal who went 
through the 1957 reports that 
both Negro and white students are 
gaining respect for one another. “If 
there are disputes we settle them as 
teenage disputes without racial 
overtones,” adds assistant principal 
Elizabeth Huckaby. 

The general attitude of Little 
Rock towards integration, while 
still one of great reluctance, also ap- 
pears to be changing. The city had 
always resisted integrated sports. 
But last year the Arkansas Travel- 
lers baseball team acquired a Negro 
player. At the opening game, a 


Citizen’s Council member picketed 
in front of the main gate of the 
baseball park. But when the gates 
opened, a capacity crowd dashed in 
so frantically that the picket had to 
flee to avoid being trampled. A few 
games later, when the Negro player 
helped his team to victory, he got 
a standing ovation. 

Leaders of the National Associa- 
tion for the Advancement of Col- 
oured People point out that, except 
among a minority of liberal-minded 
white citizens, there is no real desire 
for racial equality in Little Rock. 
A more encouraging view is ex- 
pressed by Worth Long, member of 
the Student Non-Violent Co-ordin- 
ating Committee, who says, “We 
feel things will be O.K. if we can 
reach our goals in a reasonable time. 
So far, this has been only a surface 
revolution. We still have to face the 
hardcore problems of job opportun- 
ities and housing ghettos. But the 
businessmen have negotiated in 
good faith and the future I(K)ks 
hopeful.” 

The best guarantee of peaceful 
progress probably lies in the theme 
repeated time and again to this 
correspondent: “We arc again a 
growing, prosperous community 
with a great future. We’re not going 
to jeopardize it*by risking trouble 
over integration. We don’t want 
another 1957!” 


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Can Chancellor Erhard adequately Jill the massive shoes of the 
great Adenauer ^ who led his compatriots to one of the most 
amazing recai^eries in European history f 



in Adenauers (Tenn;ni\ 


T ime, change, and the march 
of events have brought to 
a finish the 14-ycar rule 
of the doughty, imperious old man 
who guided West Germany up 
from the ruin of total defeat, up 
from the slime of the greatest moral 
and spiritual collapse in recorded 
history, to a point where Germans 
could once again walk by daylight, 


however shameful their memories 
of the night may be. 

Last October Adenauer handed 
the reins over to his former Econo- 
mics Minister, Ludw'ig Erhard. 
When the history of the post war 
years is written, how will the tall, 
spare, 87-year-old man be recog- 
nized } How well did he do, and will 
Erhard carry on in his direction? 

103 


Condensed from Newsweek 


THE READER'S DIGEST 


The Germany of which Adenauer 
took command one September day 
in 1949 was a shambles. The Ger- 
many he left was the most powerful 
economic and military power in 
Western Europe. Winston Churchill 
called Adenauer “the greatest Ger- 
man statesman since Bismarck.” A 
list of German achievements under 
Adenauer confirms his judgement. 

Under Adenauer’s tutelage the 
scars of war have healed to the point 
where the victors, except for Russia 
and her satellites, are now' Ger- 
many's allies. The ancient enmity 
with France ended, and a Franco- 
German treaty of friendship has 
been ratified by the parliaments of 
both countries. Germany is a mem- 
ber of NATO (one German 
general has served as commander 
of NATO land forces in Central 
Europe, and he has been followed 
by another German general). A new 
German army, 400,000 strong, faces 
east to the threat of Soviet attack, 
flanked by troops from Britain, 
America and France. 

Within two years after he took 
office, the seamed, crab-apple coun- 
tenance of der Alte (the old man) 
had become the best-known face in 
Germany. Sometimes he flitted 
from town to town at the head of 
high-speed motor-car processions, 
exhorting here, admonishing there. 
An austere man, whose -ole indul- 
gence is a love of fine Rhine wines 
(which he sips after his usual frugal 
dinner of chicken or fish), he 
preached the virtues of moderation 
104 


and hard work. A devout Roman 
Catholic and staunch anti-Commu- 
nist, he won the respect of the Allies 
and the hatred of the Russians. 

Above all else, however, he gave 
the Germans the confidence and the 
will to arise phoenix-like from the 
rubble of defeat. He felt that Ger- 
mans must be told what to do, 
not asked. Parliamentary process 
seemed to make the Germans un- 
easy in the early days, and to some 
extent it still sits uncomfortably 
today. Adenauer's personal style 
became his government’s, a method 
of ruling that has been called Kanz- 
Icrdemokratic (Chancellor demo- 
cracy). Nevertheless, it worked. 

The bewildered German people, 
reduced to a primitive barter eco- 
nomy, were caught up by Ade- 
nauer’s positive leadership. In the 
first task, economic reconstruction, 
Adenauer allowed Erhard, a 
vigorous, pragmatic, then little- 
known Bavarian, to set the pace by 
making a bonfire of Allied economic 
controls. The result has become 
known as the Wirtschaftsu/under, 
or economic miracle. 

The pace of Germany’s commerce 
startled other Europeans. In little 
more than a decade, the Federal 
Republic— with generous foreign 
aid — has been transformed from the 
pensioner, and pariah, of Europe 
into the world’s third largest tn-ding 
nation and third largest industrial 
power. Since 1950, when Germany 
lived on loans and her annual trade 
deficit was Rs. 475 crores, exports 





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THE ERHARD ERA BEGINS IN ADENAUER'S GERMANY 


have increased sixfold — ^providing 
an average Rs. 713 crores yearly 
surplus — a remarkable contrast to 
pre-Adenauer days when the Ger- 
mans, young and old alike, painfully 
cleared rubble in their shattered 
towns, chipping mortar off bricks 
so that they could be used again. 

The successes of the Adenauer 
era, however, were not achieved 
without cost. Adenauer’s rule was 
authoritarian, frequently contemp- 
tuous of democratic processes. In- 
stead of confiding in his elected 
ministers, Adenauer often leaned on 
an oligarchy of Rhineland business- 
men like the Deutsche Bank’s 
Hermann Abs, the late Robert 
Pferdmenges of Cologne, and Karl 
Blessing of the Federal Bank. Some- 
times Bundestagdeputies were mere 
ciphers, and because Adenauer was 
obsessed with foreign policy, inter- 
nal affairs were left largely to under- 
lings. As a result, Germany’s 
political democratic growth has 
been stunted; though, considering 
the history of the (Jerman people, it 
sometimes seems as vigorous as that 
in President de Gaulle’s France. 
One great omission was the failure 
to continue effectively the purge of 
” old Nazis in the police and the judi- 
ciary. Even Adenauer’s State Secre- 
tary and closest confidant, Hans 
Globke, although no Nazi party 
member, was associated with Nazi 
racial laws. Stubbornly, Adenauer 
refused to dismiss him (though he 
did give up his post on reaching 
retirement age), and was equally 


reluctant to move against other du- 
bious officials except when pressed. 

Adenauer’s critics also charge that 
by condoning the activities of irre- 
dentist East German refugee groups, 
even to the extent of appearing at 
their rallies, Adenauer kept alive 
suspicions that the Germans still 
hanker after their pre-1939 borders. 

Even Adenauer’s French treaty 
has come under attack. During the 
critical weeks after de Gaulle vetoed 
British membership of the Common 
Market, Adenauer alone might 
have tempered de Gaulle’s attitude. 
Manv Germans believe that he 
failed Europe, and the Atlantic alli- 
ance, by merely sitting transfixed. 
“When he returned from Pans,’’ 
said one German editor, “he spoke 
a new language, sounding even in 
German just like de Gaulle.” 

A searching criticism of the entire 
Adenauer era has been offered by 
Dr. Gerd Bucerius, Hamburg pub- 
lisher and former CDU deputy 
“Adenauer’s great fault was that he 
understood how to sway the masses, 
but not how to educate them to 
become citizens. Because he is so 
much more cunning than those 
around him, he delighted in over- 
powering them, instead of con- 
vincing them democratically. His 
party should Have forced him to 
resign earlier.” 

In any event, old age and a fading 
power to attract voters at the polling 
booth finally forced the issue. The 
Government had also been rocked 
by such scandals as the affair of the 

toy 



THE READER^S DIGEST 


news-magazine Dcr Spiegei, which 
forced the resignation <x Defence 
Minister Franz-Josef Strauss. 

Recent elections in Berlin, Hesse, 
Lower Saxony and the Rhineland- 
Palatinate have gone disastrously 
for the Christian Democrats, and 
there is fear in the CDU that the 
Socialists, led by West Berlin’s 
Mayor Willy Brandt, may scrape 
into power in the 1965 elections.* It 
was this fear that spurred the party 
to demand that Adenauer set a date 
for his retirement. 

Erhard, the hew Chancellor, 
needs litde introduction. His riibi' 
cund features, six-inch cigars, and 
air of pordy well-being are symbols 
of the economic miracle. A univer- 
sity professor and a director of a 
small market-research institute, 
Erhard was made Economics Minis- 
ter of his native Bavaria by the 
U.S. Military Clovernment in 1945 
(which led him to say jokingly, “I 
am an American invention”). Four 
years later he became chairman of 
the embryo of a national economics 
ministiy. His theory was that since 
Germany’s only unlimited resource 
after 1945 was labour, all restrictions 
should be abolished. A new cur- 
rency would provide the impetus, 
and everyone would enjoy the fruits 
of what he earned. When he pre- 
sented his plan, (ieneral Lucius 

* At the electiona for the Lafiu stai; of the 
federal state of Bremen, held laat S^tember, 
the Socialints preierved their absolute majority, 
but the CDU chmbrd from 14-8 to 28 9 pet 
cent of the vote and gained 15 teats. Apart from 
local factors this succest was attributed to the 
advent of Erhard. 

loS 


Clay, U.S. Military Governor, said, 
in effect: "*It cannot possibly work, 
but go ahead anyway. Things can’t 
get any worse.” 

The fruits of the Erhard Plan 
were abundant. Millions of workers 
rolled up their sleeves to produce 
for the vast new market. Bewildered 
housewives discovered that they 
could buy as much as they could 
afford^and this years before the vic- 
torious Allies could end rationing. 

Soon the economic indicators 
soared. Steel production, 14*8 mil- 
lion tons in 1936 and 23 million tons 
in 1956, was 32-6 million tons in 

1962. The average weekly wage 
was 150 Deutschemarks (Rs. 175) in 

1963. Nearly a third of the insuffi- 
cient working force holds down two 
— or even three — ^jobs to pay for the 
ubiquitous washing machines, tele- 
vision sets, cars and holidays abroad. 

Today, the picture of unalloyed 
prosperity is altering slightly. Eistab- 
lishcd domestic and international 
markets are approaching saturation 
point, while rising costs are under- 
cutting (iermany’s former competi- 
tive advantages. Quality is declining 
because of poor workmanship — one 
of the consequences of the lack of 
manpower. Besides, Germany is 
taking on the burdens of foreign aid 
(Rs. 300 crores in 1962) and her own 
defence (Rs. 2,350 crores in 1963). 
None the less, a continuing solid 3*5 
per cent annual increase in the gross 
national product looks likely. 

Erhard himself offered this analy- 
sis: “In those years of the terrific 




709 



THE READEI^S DIGEST 


economic boom, we could reckon on 
supplementing the working popu- 
lation by something like one million 
people per annum— either as a result 
of the high birth-rate, years or be- 
cause of refugees. West German in- 
dustry and commerce are now 
feeling the effects of the years when 
the birth rate was abnormally low, 
while the Berlin Wall has closed the 
flow of immigrants from the east." 

One of Erhard’s proposed solu- 
tions is uninhibited exports. He 
passionately wants Britain and its 
Commonwealth markets in the 
European economic community. “It 
is our task," he said recently, “to 
turn the Franco-German treaty into 
an instrument of European unity 
and Atlantic co-operation." 

The Christian Democrats wanted 
Erhard as chancellor because of his 


undeniable popularity. Also, per- 
haps, because they knew his govern- 
ment will be different in style from 
the stern authoritarian rule of Ade- 
nauer. “It is high time," Erhard 
said recently, “that confidence in 
the state, in the democratic order, in 
the rule of law, and in the credi- 
bility of German politicians be re- 
stored among the German j^eople." 

In Western chancelleries, there is 
little fear that Erhard will radically 
alter the course of German policy. 
He is wedded to the Atlantic alli- 
ance, a fervent believer in European 
unity, and a man of broad, demo- 
cratic views. “Adenauer," observed 
one diplomat in Bonn, “has cleared 
the rums. The old man’s successors 
must now complete the plans, lay 
the foundations, and really begin 
building a new Germany." 


frhat Kind of Man is Erhai^d? 

new German Chancellor’s dislike 
of the cut-and'thrust of ])olitics has 
led some people, including Adenauer, to 
dismiss him as a Gunimilowc (Rubber 
I. ion) His friends reply that this estimate 
errs in mistakenly branding as faint- 
heartedness Erhard’s innate lack of mean- 
ness As former French Economics Minister 
Jacques Rueff put it, “By a rare coincidence 
of qualities normally in conflict, he is a 
man of reflection as well as a man of 
action Anyone who has heard his stirring 
speeches will understand that he knows 
what he is after and is set on getting it .n 
full ’’ Even Adenauer, for all his reluctance 
to turn over political leadership to the 
younger man, has said of Erhard: “Wc 
have worked shoulder to shoulder and 
mastered many a difficult situation, have 


shared troubles and worries. Now and ther 
we have held different opinions, but that': 
part of the job. There is usually not much 
substance in people who always agree with 
each other.” 

On the personal side, Erhard is fond ol 
good food, which has helped earn him th( 
nickname dcr Dic^e (Fatty) from his c<> 
workers He is often found in the kitcher 
of his home, garbed in an apron, putting 
together a favourite dish He is an arden: 
soccer fan and an accomplished pianist 
He likes to read an occasional myster} 
(Agatha Christie is his favourite), or lister 
to recordings of Beethoven, Schubert 
Mozart, Chopin and Strauss. In the las 
ten years he has written three books 
Wohlstand fur Alle has been translatec 
into several languages; it was published ir 
English as Prosperity Through Competi 
tion (Thames & Hudson, London). 







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112 



Humour 
in Uniform 


My COMPANIONS and I were directors 
of a Special Services club, and had 
everything spick-and-span for an in- 
spection headed by a general. Hut at 
the last moment Ann spotted a for- 
gotten duster lying on a table. 
Glancing anxiously around and find- 
ing nowhere to hide the duster, she 
hastily thrust it into the front of her 
uniform just as the generaPs party 
entered the club. 

The inspection went off without 
incident. An hour later we were still 
chuckling about the duster when the 
general’s A.D.C. returned to the club 
and solemnly handed Ann a “com- 
mendation” signed by the general: 
“For best possible use of available 
storage space,” —Gene MacMillan 

A NEWSPAPER correspondent and 
some associates had been assigned to 
repQ^t on a launching at Cape Cana- 
veral. After a few delays in the count- 
down, the moment for blast-off 
arrived. The rocket rose a few feet, 
then blew up in a great burst of flame. 
After witnessing this spectacle, the 
correspondents awaited the official 
press release. When the statement 
came, it called the launching a “partial 
success.” TTic correspondent asked the 


press officer how this dud could be 
deemed a “partial success.” Unshaken, 
the officer smiled and said, “The de- 
struct button worked perfectly.” 

— ViCTCA Miller 

When my cousin was called up 
during the war, he was sure he 
wouldn’t pass the eye test, as he was 
very short-sighted. After he told the 
doctor he couldn’t read the chart, he 
was asked to take a step forward. 
Again he could not read it. This went 
on until he was about two feet from 
the chart. 

“You’ll do,” said the doctor, “for the 
hand-to-hand fighting.” —J. K. 

Driving along I picked up a hitch- 
hiking sailor. He was only about 17; 
so when he told me he was on his way 
to see his dad, I asked how his father 
felt about his joining the navy. “He’s 
very pleased,” he replied. “In fact, he 
talked me into joining.” 

“Is your father an ex-navy man?” 
I asked. 

“No, he’s still in the navy,” replied 
the young sailor. “He’s the local re- 
cruiting officer at home.” B 

The privileges of rank were never 
better demonstrated than when I went 
to a recruiting station to take an Army 
Reserve medical. Dressed in civilian 
clothes, I presented my papers to an 
orderly at the reception desk. “Leave 
all your clothes in one of those cubicles 
by the wall and then report back here,” 
he said automatically. Then, glancing 
at my papers, he called me back. “Are 
you an officer?” he asked. 

“Yes,” I replied. 

O.K.,” he said, “You can leave 
your pants on —Captain Joseph Murphv 




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How We Remember, 
Why We Forget 


Scientists have untangled many of the riddles of human 
memory and are on the brink of exciting new discoveries 


By John Pfui-fer 


W E MOVE dirough a world 
of ceaseless activity, a 
world humming with 
events. Experience stirs up things 
inside our heads, barrages of brief 
electrical impulses flash along nerve 
fibres running from s<.nse organs to 
brain. Images, sounds, odours, all 
the things wc note in the outside 
world, arc represented by coded pat- 
terns of impulses — living “sparks,” 
each lasting only a few ^ousandths 
of a second. 

These are transient signals. Yet 
somehow certain selected patterns 
of information arc fixed — ^frozen in 
flight, as it were — and transformed 
into permanent records among in- 
tricate nerve-cell networks. They 
arc filed away systematically and 
with amazing compactness for 
future reference. 

In man’s memory, nature has 


created a truly remarkable storage 
system, one that puts microfilm to 
shame. This system contains enor- 
mous numbers of “memory traces,” 
individual bits of information 
which represent the past as definite- 
ly as cuneiform markings on clay 
tablets. Recently, scientists have 
learnt some things about memory 
and memory traces. And while a 
great deal of research remains to 
be done, they feel that tliey are at 
last beginning to close in on crucial 
questions. 

They now suspect that learning 
produces actual changes in the brain 
— probably a number of different 
kinds of changes. For one thing, the 
cortex or “outer bark” of the brain 
is probably affected. This thin sheet 
of grey matter contains about 10,000 
million nerve cells and represents 
the brain’s most highly evolved 

^^5 


Condensed from Think 



THE READER^S DIGEST 


centre. Recent animal experiments 
at the University of California in- 
dicate that certain so-called Colgi 
cells in the cortex, like the root 
systems of growing plants, may 
develop more and more fibres as 
learning proceeds. 

The cortex includes special areas 
reserved as receiving stations for 
information from the sense organs. 
Signals from the eye pass to visual 
areas at the back of the cortex, 
signals from the ears go to auditory 
areas at the sides, and so on. Recent 
studies indicate that among artists 
the visual areas contain an extra- 
high proportion of highly-branched 
Golgi cells; among musicians the 
auditory areas show particularly 
dense concentrations. 

Further evidence on the possible 
role of the cortex in memory comes 

j 

from the classical experiments made 
by Dr. Wilder Penficld at the Mon- 
treal Neurological Institute. About 
15 years ago, during an operation on 
the brain of a 26-ycar-oId woman 
afflicted with epilepsy, something 
remarkable happened : Dr. Penficld 
artificially evoked a memory. When 
he touched a spot on the side of the 
patient's cortex with a stimulating 
electrode, she said, “I hear music ! ” 
When the electrode was removed, 
the music stopped, abruptly. Fifteen 
minutes later the contgj:r was placed 
on the same spot, with the same 
result; “I hear music again. It is 
like radio.” 

The surgeon repeated the test 20 
times, stimulating spots within an 
7/6 


area about the size of a match head. 
Each time the patient heard the 
same tunc, “Marching Along To- 
gether,” in vivid detail as if the reel 
of a tape recorder were unwinding 
in her mind. And apparently the 
reel automatically rewound itself: 
whenever the electrode was re- 
moved from the spot, then replaced 
a few minutes later, the music 
started all over again from the 
beginning ! 

The “unwinding” process is 
familiar in everyday experience. la 
trying to recall a line of a poem or 
popular song, )ou sometimes have 
to go through the verses from the 
beginning until you come to the line 
you want. A gcxid deal of what we 
remember st‘ems to be filed away in 
some sort of time sequence, like the 
frames in a strip of microfilm. 
When resurrected the film runs for- 
ward, never backward, and at time's 
own unchanged pace. 

The mechanisms of memory are 
not confined to the cortex. Brain- 
wave studies show that the electrical 
activity of the subcortical “limbic” 
structures — centres located round 
the inner borders between the cere- 
bral hemispheres — changes during 
learning. 

Damage to certain of these 
deeper parts of the brain is believed 
to account for symptoms like those 
experienced by a middle-aged jxist- 
man at an ex-servicemen's hi'spital. 
He remembers events from his 
childhood, his war service, details 
of his postal rounds — all the 




THE READER'S DIGEST 


memories he had stored before the 
onset of his illness several years ago. 
Since then he has added nothing 
to his inner records. Because of 
damage to one of its deeper parts, 
his brain is incapable of forming 
new permanent memory traces. He 
can recall events that came up 
within the last three minutes; on 
anything earlier he draws a blank. 

There is a distinct dilfcrence be- 
tween (i) not being able to form 
new memory traces, and (2) not 
being able to get at traces which 
have already been formed. Strictly 
speaking, the postman did not 
forget anything: his brain since his 
illness has simply failed to register 
what happens. 

Forgetting, on the other hand, 
involves the blocking of pathways 
leading to stored information. Often 
in these cases the memory traces 
themselves seem to remain intact. 
Under hypnosis, for example, 
people instantly recall details of 
childhood events which they have 
“forgotten" — that is, which are 
there but normally inaccessible. 

The formation and storage of 


memory traces are infinitely com- 
plex phenomena; the mechanism of 
recall or retrieval is even more mys- 
terious. Try to imagine what takes 
place in your brain when someone 
asks you a question like, “Have you 
read The Improbable Marquis?*' or 
“Do you know Ronald James?” 
You will respond within a few 
seconds and probably correctly. Yet 
to perform this feat you have some- 
how searched through memory files 
containing records of thousands of 
titles and names. Scientists cannot 
begin to explain this phenomenon. 

There are other faculties involv- 
ing memory that we should like to 
know more about. Imagination, for 
example. It may be a kind of mosaic- 
building process, the “pieces” being 
already-formed memory traces 
which are assembled into new 
patterns—si miles and metaphors, 
scientific theories, utopias. The |X)s- 
sibilities of such investigation arc 
endless. In fact, says a leading inves- 
tigator, “The more we learn about 
how living nerve cells retain rec- 
ords, the better we shall understand 
the essential processes of life itself.” 


YVYVYYVVVVV 


Basic Principle 

Os MY first job, in a motor-car repair shop, I struggled futilely to 
remove a smashed bumper and finally gave up. The body man listened 
to my excuses, then said, had a lOugh job in the first place I worked, 
and I told the boss, *I just can’t do it.’ You know what he told me? 
Toung fella,' he said, *we only allow two can’ts in this place. If you 
can’t do it, you can’t stay !’ ” 

The bumper came off. 
riS 


— D. p. R. 



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People-toPeople: 


A Plan 
for 
Friendship 

By Dwight D. Eisenhower 


fFhdt can the ordinary 
person do to advance 
the came of peace? 
A former President of the 
United States presents 
a course of action which he 
regards as one of the 
true hopes for mankind 

An emotion that lies deep in the 
L\ hearts of people everywhere 
A JLis the yearning for peace. 
No matter how aggressive and des- 
potic their own governments may 
be, the peoples of this earth recoil 
at the thought of war. They want 


nothing so much as a normal world 
in which to live and rear their 
children. 

Why, I am asked again and 
again, when the desire for friend- 
ship and goodwill among men is so 
universal, must there be so much 
misunderstanding and strife? And 
is there nothing the average citizen 
can do about all this? 

There is, of course, no single, 
simple answer to the Brst question. 
The second question, however, 1 
can answer hopefully and emphati- 
cally. There is indeed something 
that all of us can do — something 
which could prove to be a really 
effective step in bringing .lUiut a 
true peace. 

All of us— men, women and chil- 
dren — can join in a movement 
which I like to think of as an ‘‘epi- 
demic of friendship” among the 
peoples of the world. It is a move- 
ment which in time could seep in 
under the structures of governments 
and, through sheer force of popular 
opinion, create an international cli- 
mate in which a genuine neighbour- 
liness of nations would thrive. 

The movement is called Peoplc- 
to-People, and it is dedicated to the 

121 



THE READER S DIGEST 


task of promoting friendship and 
understanding among ordinary cid- 
zens everywhere. It stands apart 
from government. It is not a propa- 
ganda agency. It already has a 
notable record of accomplishment, 
and it should be expanded a hun- 
dredfold. 

Here arc some examples of the 
thousands of local projects and inci- 
dents which make up this world- 
wide programme. To me these little 
stories arc exciting and meaning- 
ful — because they provide clear 
proof that, given a chance, people 
will make friends across, round, 
over and under all the natural and 
man-made barriers separatingthem. 

* An organization in Denmark 
called “Meet the Danes*’ sees to it 
that foreign visitors who wish to get 
acquainted are invited to some Dan- 
ish home for an evening. So that 
there will be a common ground, the 
travellers and their hosts arc usually 
matched by interests and hobbies or 
by occupation — lawyers with law- 
yers, merchants with merchants, 
teachers with teachers. The office in 
Cofxrnhagcn even found a Danish 
butterfly collector for a delighted 
lady with the same hobby. 

More than 50,000 foreign visitors 
have been thus entertained in 
Denmark, and the idea has now 
spread throughout* Scandinavia. 
Tliere are similar organizations 
called “Sweden at Home,” “Know 
the Norwegians,” and “Find the 
Finns.** 

* A couple of years ago, 2,000 


volunteers in Chicago collected 
more than 300,000 books and 
shipped them to the schools and 
libraries in Asian and African com- 
munities which desperately want 
reading material. P-t-P book drives 
have been conducted in many cities. 

• One of many heartening letters 
I have received in recent years came 
from a young Dutchman who had 
worked in Oregon for nine months 
as an exchange industrial trainee. 
He said: “The friendship and hos- 
pitality of the American people sur- ^ 
prised me. I wish more Europeans 
could be trainees in America and 
more Americans could be trainees 
in Europe.” The exchange of 
workers and trainees in many liekU 
is one of the projects of numerous 
cities participating in People-to- 
Pcople. 

Among the best-established of the 
programmes, with an excellent 
record of achievement for more 
than seven years, is the sister-city 
movement. More than 250 towns 
and cities in 52 countries are alfili 
ated with an cc]ual number in 
America. Communities of all sizes 
participate. Tokyo and New York 
arc paired; Milan and Chicago; 
Bangkok and Washington. In 
India, Madras is paired with New 
Haven, Connecticut; and Mcrcara 
with Darien, Connecticut. 

The projects carried on under this 
programme are endless. Groups of 
visitors, who have studied intensive- 
ly for their trips, travel back and 
forth and are usually entertained in 


122 





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PEOPLE TO-PEOPLE: A PLAN FOR FRIENDSHIP 


the homes of the sister city. There is 
a constant two-way flow of letters, 
books, magazines, photographs, 
hobby and art exhibitions, tape 
recordings, sermons, taped radio 
programmes, significant small gifts 
— and sometimes larger gifts when 
there is some acute need in the sister 
city. 

Schools get into the act with all 
sorts of exchanges and study groups. 
Oflicials delve into one another’s 
problems and often exchange advice 
and help. 

•Kobe, Japan, and Seattle, which 
are afliliatea, are cities of beautiful 
gardens. Enthusiasts in both cities 
study each other’s methods and 
often exchange roses, azaleas, rho- 
dodendrons, chrysanthemums and 
other plants. 

* Hundreds of thousands of 
people of all ages are now corre- 
sponding regularly with foreign 
friends whom they have never seen 
— found for them by the various 
P-t-P programmes. Often they have 
some common ground of interest 
such as similar occupations or hob- 
bies. Usually these correspondents 
study one another’s countries in- 
tensively. 

The above examples, selected at 
random, all have a basic common 
denominator: a breaching of the 
age-old barriers of geography, lan- 
guage, race, history and customs. As 
the dark breeds fear in children, so 
ignorance breeds suspicion in the 
people of this world. Bur now, in 
the middle of the twentieth century. 


communications have been speeded 
up and the flow of knowledge has 
grown from a trickle to a wide, 
steady stream. 

Berlin is now ten hours from 
Chicago. People come and go effort- 
lessly across the oceans. A particu- 
larly dramatic example of things to 
come is Telstar, the communica- 
tions satellite. During recent 
months I have participated twice in 
Telstar programmes — ^because I 
wanted to help demonstrate what 
close neighbours we have all 
become. 

Pcoplc-ni-Pcople is capitalizing 
on this widening horizon and 
creating out of it mutual under- 
standing and solid friendship. This 
far-sighted programme was started 
in IQ56 as a citizens* movement, and 
I did what 1 could unofficially from 
the White House to help it get 
going. 

There was no central organiza- 
tion, however, and the programme 
as a whole moved along uncertainly 
for five years. Then a group of 
determined men, unwilling to let 
the programme founder, got to- 
gether and reconstituted the People- 
to-Pcople movement. 

In November ig6i, Peoplc-to 
People was set up as a permanent, 
non-profit organization, with a dis- 
tinguished board of trustees. 1 
agreed to serve as chairman of the 
board on the condition that the 
entire effort would remain strictly 
separate from government. I was 
emphatic on this point, because I 

/25 



THE READER^S DIGEST 


know that all too often government 
tal statements, pledges and publica- 
dons at the internadonal level are 
suspected, at dmes righdy, of being 
nothing but propaganda. If P-t-P is 
to do &e job we all want it to do, 
it must condnue to be a citizens* 
programme. 

Today Pcopic-to-Pcoplc has many 
facets, and most of the programmes 
are growing rapidly. The university 
programme, for example, extends 
the hand of friendship in a dozen 
ways to many of the 65,000 foreign 
students now studying in the United 
States. 

Last year, for one thing, it 
found summer jobs for some 350 of 
them — thus easing their financial 
load and enabling them to see 
another side of life in America. It is 
difficult for a foreign student, who 
usually knows nothing of American 
employment procedures, to get a job 
without such assistance. 

The director of the school and 
classroom programme expects to 
have more than 45,000 classrooms 
with an estimated enrolment of 
1-2 million pupils participating in 
personal contacts with foreign stu- 
dents by the end of the 1963-4 
school year. 

These P-t-P projects have a 
particular appeal for children. 
Teachers all over the United States 
have told us with what enthusiasm 
their pupils dig up facts about 
foreign peoples, how they love to 
write letters and send and receive 
small gifts. Incidentally, I have had 
/26 


this same experience with my grand- 
children and other youngsters : they 
seem genuinely fascinated when I 
talk with them about the future and 
their own relationship with people 
everywhere. 

Community chapters of P-t-P are 
now being organized across the 
United States. One of their most 
successful projects is playing host, 
often in the chapter members' own 
homes, to some of the 852,000 
foreign visitors who come to Ameri- 
can shores each year. 

What a fine thing it would be 
if Pcoplc-to-Pcople eventually 
became big enough to open the 
doors of an American home for a 
day or so to every traveller from 
abroad ! 

I have been particularly intrigued 
by the affiliation of York, a lively 
town of 60,000 in the Pennsylvania 
Dutch country, with historic Arles, 
in the south of France. York and 
Arles regularly exchange language 
teachers, and several tiwusand ele- 
mentary-school children in York 
study French every year. Exchanges 
of visitors, students, trainees, and all 
sorts of information and expressions 
of goodwill go on constantly. A 
York newspaper publishes a French 
cartoon strip regularly. A few years 
ago an exchange teacher from York 
married the mayor of Arles, a 
widower. 

In the sununer of 1962, mr)re than 
100 citizens of Arles and vicinity 
visited York for several days. They 
came to see me in Gettysburg, and 



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PEOPLE'TO-PEOPLE: A PUN FOR FRIENDSHIP 


I was delighted with the enthusiasm 
of these people. Last year some 
8o York people, on a group Euro- 
pean tour, spent five days visit- 
ing friends in Arles. In York the 
moving spirit behind this love affair 
between the two towns is a retired 
Jewish rabbi, Moses Friedman. 

Sports, of course, are a universal 
language, and Colonel Eagan and 
•his P-t-P Sports Committee have 
done a great deal to cement friend' 
ships the world over. Men’s and 
girls’ hockey teams regularly go on 
tour of foreign countries. Basketball 
teams, boxers and tennis players 
exchange visits. The Sports Com- 
mittee also sends kits of sports 


equipment to impoverished young- 
sters in many countries of Africa, 
Latin America, the Far East and 
elsewhere. And when foreign ath- 
letes visit the United States, Colonel 
Eagan sees to it that they are 
warmly entertained. 

Another expression of goodwill 
which always stirs an old soldier’s 
pride is the endless list of friendly 
acts performed by American mili- 
tary men and their wives overseas. 
In their spare time, many thousands 
of these young men and women 
organize sports among local young- 
sters, teach informal classes in 
English and other subjects, help 
build sch(K)ls and shops and other 


Eisenhower greets citizens of Arles, Frame, 
as they visit their sister town oj York, Pennsylvania 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


public facilities. Through benefits, 
and often out of their own pockets, 
they raise funds to help local people 
in need. And when disaster strikes 
they are always among the first to 
assist. 

Some of these things they do 
under People-to-People auspices, 
others simply in the People-to- 
People spirit. 

One limitation, of course, is that 
as yet we have not been able to 
penetrate the Iron Curtain to any 
appreciable extent. Yet 1 am con- 
vinced that the day will come when 
we can and will reach these peoples, 
for the citizens of Communist coun- 
tries want peace and friendship just 
as much as we do. 

In the meantime, we all have a 
big job to do among the free nations 
of this earth. Tensions and misun- 
derstandings develop even among 
friends — as for example between the 
United States and such staunch old 
allies as Canada, France and Britain. 
Yet everyone knows that the bonds 
of understanding and friendship 
among free countries must be kept 
strong and true if our Western 
way of life is to survive. People-to- 
Peoplc can and docs help; with you 


assisting, it could do even better. 

There is plenty for everyone to do 
in this movement, which, after all, is 
based on the principles of Christian- 
ity, For those who wish to partici- 
pate but don’t quite know how to 
begin, I suggest that the first step is 
to write a letter to PeopIe-to-Pcople, 
2401 Grand Avenue, Kansas City 8, 
Missouri, U.S.A. This is the least 
exclusive club in the world. Anyone 
can join. 

Despite the ominous problems 
confronting the W^cstern worlds I 
am not pessimistic about the future. 
Indeed, I am sulficiently old-fash- 
ioned to believe that in the end right 
must triumph. Yet it is also true that 
no Worthy goal is ever reached with- 
out work. If men of goodwill do 
not work voluntarily, and hard, for 
a firm structure of friendship 
throughout the world, there is a 
grave chance that one day all of us 
may be working at whatever we arc 
told to do. 

People-to-Pcople may be an in- 
fant, but it is lusty, growing and 
industrious. If millions join the 
movement every year, one day it 
may become the Hercules to clean 
out the filthy stables of war. 


* Hot Line 

M extra careful about dialling numbers since the time I phoned fur 
a taxi and asked for one to be sent round immediately, A slightly breath- 
less female voice answered, “This is not a taxi. It is a naked, dripping- 
wet wrong iiumbcr ! ” — l. e. r. 


/JO 



BOOK SUPPLEMENT 


TIHtA! -for heachety 

The full, untold story of the 
Japanese attack on Pearl Harbour 



from the forthcoming book 

hu f^nrrinn 





Until its publication in The Reader’s Digest, the full account of 
how Japan planned and executed the 1941 attack on Pearl Harbour, 
the “impregnable” base of the U.S. Pacific Fleet, has been among the 
untold dramas of the xvar. How, after more than 16 years of 
research, Gordon Prange has produced the authentic record of the 
action that caused America to join the Allies. How did the Japanese 
succeed in moving an armada of 31 warships across 3,500 miles of 
ocean completely undetected? IIoiv were 350 warplanes able to attack 
and cripple the American fleet with such dexmtating accuracy and 
itunning surprise? The anszcers to these and other unexplained 
questions are given in this compelling story of triumph in treachery. 

First of two instalments 





Condensed from the forthcoming book “Tora, Tara, Tora!” by Gordon Prange 


T hree submarines sped 
through the black ocean 
swells 100 miles ahead of the 
main body of ships. Prowling low^ 
to the surface, they kept alert for the 
slightest hint of interception. Be- 
hind them churned the destroyers, 
cruisers, battleships and aircraft 
carriers of the attack fleet itself. The 
.massive formation spread out across 
the sea for a distance of loo miles. 
Yet this sprawling armada was lost 
in the endless reaches of the Paciflc. 
It had sailed 3,500 miles from its 
home port completely undetected. 
On the flight decks of the carriers, 



bombers and fighters were lined up 
in launching position, their noses 
pointed towards the bows as if eager 
for take-off. The plane mechanics, 
looking like shadowy gnomes in the 
eerie gloom, scurried to and fro 
making a final check on engines, 
radios, landing gear and fuel tanks. 
Machine-gun ammunition boxes 
were full; bombs and torpedoes 
were in their racks. 

One of the mechanics smiled to 
himself as he came upon a message 
chalked on the side of a bomb: 
“This one will open the war with 
America.” 

For this was the First Air Fleet of 
the Imperial Japanese Navy, as- 
signed to launch the surprise attack 
on Pearl Harbour — an act of utter 
treachery from which the Japanese 
did not shrink. Indeed this opera- 
tion was a fantastic military gamble 
upon which a desperate nation had 
elected to stake its future. 

In the pre-dawn hours of that 
morning of December 7, 1941, the 
atmosphere aboard the Japanese 
warships was grim. The veteran 
pilots, those with hundreds of flying 
hours behind them, felt more tense 
anticipation than fright. But, for the 
young officers who had barely com- 
pleted their training, cold fear min- 
gled with excitement. The untested 
pilots of the spanking new carriers 
Shokal^u and Zui{a{u were partic- 
ularly nervous, and as they gulped 

j Taf(e-off! Japanese pilots man 
' thetr planes to launch the 
Pearl Harbour attac\ 

^33 


THE READER'S DIGEST 


down their pre-combat meal of 
green tea and rice balls they felt the 
food coagulate in their stomachs. 
After their final briefing many of 
the pilots paused before a miniature 
Shinto shrine to bow in silent 
prayer. Others said good-bye to their 
comrades among the ships’ crews. 

Uneasiness was by no means con- 
fined to the junior officers. The 
commander of the entire expedition, 
Vice-Admiral Chuichi Nagumo 
himself, had paced* his cabin in 
sleepless anxiety throughout the voy- 
age, convinced from the beginning 
that the mission was doomed. 

The officer in charge of air opera- 
tions, Commander Minoru Genda, 
felt overcome with awe at the re- 
sponsibility that had been entrusted 
to him. Normally inimune to 
worry, in the last hours before the 
launching he brooded on the dan- 
ger of unforeseeable pitfalls. The 
day might bring a glorious victory, 
or — the ancestral gods forbid ^ — a 
stupendous failure. On his deci- 
sions, Genda reflected, rested the 


future of 100 million of his country- 
men. 

But his sense of trepidation did 
not last long. Did he not have a bril- 
liant commander to lead the attack.^ 
And were not the majority of the 
Japanese pilots of the finest calibre, 
officers who would shine in any air 
force? In the end, Genda was sure, 
all their months of careful planning, 
their Spartan training, their preci- 
sion tactics, would pay off. Staring 
out at the hostile, lonely sea. Com- 
mander Genda suddenly experi- 
enced a resurgence of confidence. 
“I found myself marvellously un- 
troubled by any worry,” he said, 
“with all care completely cleared 
away.” 

And then, above the thunder of 
the ships’ turbines a sharper sound 
arose— the drone of aircraft engines. 
Two long-range seaplanes took to 
the air, bound on advance recon- 
naissance missions over the desig- 
nated targets. 

The arrow had left the bow. No 
one, now, could recall it. 


This book has been in preparation for more than 1 6 years. It was written by the 
man who now knows mart about the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbour than any 
other living person — Dr. Gordon Prange, professor of history at the University of 
Maryland. As a naval officer^ Dr. Prange served with the U.S. Military Govern-- 
ment in Tokyo. In October ig46 he transferred to General Mac Arthur's occupation 
staff oi a civilian histdriaHy arid determined to devote such personal time as he could 
muster to uncovering the definitive story of Pearl Harbour from the Japanese side. 
During his remaining five years in Japan^ and ever since, Dr. Prange has been 
studying and evaluating scores of previously unrevealed diaries, thousands of letters 
and war records. In addition, he has interviewed virtually every surviving Japanese 
officer who took part in the Pearl Harbour operation. 

n4 




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TORAI—FOR TRE ICIJERY 


The plan to strike Pearl Harbour 
had been conceived and pushed 
through against all opposition by 
the ^mmander-in-Chief of the 
Japanese Combined Fleet, Admiral 
Isoroku Yamamoto. The circum- 
stance was ironical, for Yamamoto 
was a brilliant strategist who was 
flady opposed to war with the 
United States. He had seen Ameri- 
ca’s industrial might at first hand 
when he studied at Harvard Uni- 
versity, and later when he served as 
a naval attache in Washington. 

“If I am told to fight regardless 
of the consequences,” he informed 
the Japanese Prime Minister in the 
autumn of 1940, “I shall run wild 
for the first six months, but I have 
utterly no confidence for the second 
and third years. 1 hope you will 
endeavour to avoid a Japanese- 
Amcncan war.” 

How was it possible that a man 
who so clearly foresaw its conse- 
quences could have engineered the 
stroke that precipitated the war.^ 

The answer is that Japan was al- 
ready committed to a course that 
left Admiral Yamamoto no alterna- 
tive. He was a prisoner of history. 

The island empire of Japan has 
always been a land of exceptional 
beauty. But its mountainous terrain 
could hardly support a population 
which increased by millions each 
year, or supply raw materials for its 
efficient and ambitious industries. 
Consequently, the drive towards ex- 
pansion had been compulsive. It 
sent the Japanese into Korea to 



Idninul Iwfdlti Yanhimoio , 

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annex tlit “l^and ot ihc Morning 
Calm" in lyio, into Manchuria in 
iq3i, and into China in 1937, and 
engulfed them m an upsurge of 
nationalism as wild as the typhoon- 
ridden sea which surrounds the in- 
hospitable soil of their homeland. 
And so, blinded by hopes of a glit- 
tering destiny, they were lured into 
attempts at conquest as mindless 
and as suicidal as the periodic mi- 
grations of Norway's lemmings into 
the sea. 

The Japanese had long dreamed 
of bolstering their empire by ex- 
ploiting the resources of the rich 
lands to the south — the Philippines, 
Malaya and the Netherlands East 
Indies. Hy 1939, when Yamamoto 
became head of the combined fleet, 
obsession with the southern Eldo- 
rado had hardened into a grandiose 



THE READER’S DIGEST 


plan of conquest. The drain of the 
“China Incident,” by 1941 dragging 
well into its fourth year of profitless 
and inconclusive war, had made 
this conquest even more desirable 
by acutely sharpening the need for 
metals and oil. 

“It is my belief,” said General 
leiichi Suzuki, head of the Asia 
Development Board, “that if the key 
points of the southern area are 
securely possessed within three or 
four months, we would be able to 
acquire petroleum, aluminium, 
nickel, rubber, tin and so on in six 
months after that time. We would 
be able to make full use of these 
materials from about the second 
year of occupation.” 

Such a move would certainly 
mean war with the United States— 
as Yamamoto knew to his great re- 
gret. But make no mistake about 
one thing : Yamamoto was a robust 
nationalist and a Japanese to the 
very marrow of his bones. He loved 
Emperor and homeland with vol- 
canic ardour, and his warrior heart 
followed the traditions of the true 
samurai: duty first. 

Yamamoto believed, as did most 
people of Japan at the time, that the 
Japanese were a chosen race, select- 
ed by a far-seeing Providence to 
fulfil an ineluctable destiny. So, in 
his pattern of thinking, it was only 
logical for Japan to play the domi- 
nant role in the Asian community 
of nations. 

The most formidable obstacle to 
the Southern Operation (for which 


his post made him largely respon- 
sible; was the U.S. Navy. If the 
operation was to succeed, this 
troublesome aggregation of sea 
power would have to be barred from 
southern waters, at least during the 
first critical months. How could 
this be done.^ 

Yamamoto’s approach to the prob- 
lem was conditioned by both train- 
ing, and temperament. He was an 
aviation expert, a bold, original 
thinker, and a gambler. He liked to 
quote maxims, and one of his fav- 
ourites was, “If you want the tiger’s 
cubs, you must go into the tiger’s 
lair.” 

Inevitably, his eyes were now 
drawn to the tiger’s lair at Pearl 
Harbour, Hawaii, where the U.S. 
Pacific Fleet was based. Would it be 
possible to destroy this fleet before 
the Southern Operation began 

“Difficult, But Not Impossible” 

One day in January of 1941, Yam- 
amoto repaired to his cabin on the 
flagship Nagato and wrote to his 
close friend Admiral Takijiro Oni- 
shi, who was one of the few 
genuinely air-minded admirals in 
the Japanese Navy. 

Cautioning Onishi that the sub- 
ject was to be kept top-secret, he 
swifdy brushed out a three-page 
letter outlining a plan for a surprise 
air attack on Pearl Harbour. Did 
Onishi think such an attack feas- 
ible^ “Please study the problems 
involved carefully,” Yamamoto re- 
quested in conclusion. 



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One of Admiral Onishi’s first 
moves was to summon Commander 
Minoru Gcnda, 36'ycar-old air offi- 
cer on the carrier Kaga. He could 
scarcely have taken a more dynamic 
step. 

Genda was the most brilliant air- 
man in the Imperial Navy. His 
hawk-like, aristocratic face, with its 
thick eyebrows, straight nose and 
firm chin, was dominated by pierc- 
ing black eyes of almost frightening 
intensity. 

His ideas were bold and imagina- 
tive, and he had already consider- 
ably influenced the Navy’s aviation 
tactics and design. 

When Onishi showed him Yama- 
moto’s letter, Genda read it thought- 
fully. The daring and originality of 
Yamamoto’s idea immediately ap- 
pealed to him. 

“The plan is difficult, but not 
impossible,” he said. 


Commander Mtnortt Genda, 
offiict in thar'^c of an operations 



“Yamamoto counts heavily on 
smashing American morale by con- 
centrating on batdeships, and sink- 
ing as many of them as possible,” 
Onishi informed Genda. Although 
carriers were superior as striking 
units, most Americans (as most Jap- 
anese) still considered the batde- 
ships the real backbone of the fleet. 
So, destroying them, Yamamoto 
felt, would deal a paralysing psy- 
chological blow. 

Fantastic as it may sound, Yama- 
moto had also toyed with the idea 
that the attacking planes should not 
return to the carriers. The flat-tops 
would then not need to come in so 
dangerously close, and could start 
homeward the instant their planes 
had taken off. After making their 
attack, the pilots were to crash-land 
in the water and be rescued by de- 
stroyers and submarines. 

Yamamoto presumed, with rare 
naivete, that if this type of attack 
were used, the Americans might 
think the Japanese such a unique 
and fearless people that it would be 
useless to fight against them. 

Genda torpedoed these notions on 
the spot. The prime target would 
have to be the U.S. carriers, he said, 
since these offered the most danger 
to the Japanese Navy. And, to get 
the best results, all Japanese carriers 
would have to approach as close as 
possible to Pearl Harbour. A one- 
way attack would have a bad psy- 
chological effect on the pilots, and 
crash-ditching in enemy territory 
would mean a needless waste of 


140 



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planes and of highly trained airmen. 
Moreover, for die carriers to start 
home without planes would invite 
disaster if the Americans were to 
counter-attack. 

Genda returned to Kaga bursting 
with ideas, and went to work at 
ohee. Two weeks later he gave 
Onishi a complete draft of the 
projected attack. 

Every available flat-top should 
participate, he thought, and the 
attack should be made around dawn 
so that most of the approach would 
be under cover of darkness. The air- 
craft should include dive bombens, 
high-level bombers, torpedo planes 
and fighters. Torpedoes should be 
given priority over bombs because 
they were more destructive and, on 
a close run-in, more accurate. Al- 
though the water at Pearl Harbour 
was too shallow for any torpedo the 
lapanesc then had, (Jenda remained 
firm. T(;rpcdoes were essential; 
the shallow-water jiroblcm would 
simply have to be solved. 

Onishi approved nearly all Gcn- 
da’s ideas, added a few of his own, 
and the draft he forwarded to 
Yamamoio early in March was es- 
sentially the plan finally used. 
Within a month it was being imple- 
mented, by putting into efTcct a 
strategic concept long advocated 
by the naval pilots. Five carriers, 
then assigned to separate forces, 
were assembled with ten destroyers, 
two to each flat-top, to form the 
First Air Fleet. 

The move met strong opposition 



ViiC-AfJnnrul Chwthi Nif^nnin 
( omniantltr in-fjucl of the b'ltu hr Fleet 

from the “battleship admirals,” who 
knew nothing of the Pe.irl Harbour 
plan (and would not have approved 
of It if thev had). Rut Yamamoto 
ploughed ahead without once look- 
ing back, and from now on fycnda 
worked on the operation like one 
possessed, living it each day with 
the religious intcnsit) of a monk. 

Yamamoto would have dearly 
loved to lead the new fleet himself, 
but since he was indispensable 
where he was, the post went to Vice- 
Admiral (^huichi Nagumo, largely 
on the basis of seniority. Nagumo 
was an unimaginative old-line 
sailor, an acknowledged authority 
on navigation and ship manoeuvres. 
None of his long and honourable 
career had had the slightest connex- 
ion with aviation, however, and 
when he was informed of the Pearl 
Harbour plan he was aghast. Send- 
ing a large task force cavorting 
across 3,500 miles of angry ocean 


THE READER'S DIGEST 


into the very citadel of the enemy’s 
power demanded a close look at the 
risks involved. 

Nagumo felt strongly that the 
mere feat of getting to Hawaii un- 
detected, refuelling cn route — a 
difficult operation under the best 
conditions — and arriving there ac- 
cording to a piiifioint schedule was 
an insuperable problem. And since 
the raid’s success depended almost^ 
entirely on surprise, chance discov- 
ery could cost Japan much of her 
navy, and lose the war in a single 
day. 

For the moment, the phlegmatic 
Nagumo took comfort in believing 
that the reckless plan was unlikely 
ever to be earned out. First, war 
against the United States was by no 
means certain; negotiations with 
her were still going forward. (In an 
a^t of calculated deception, Ja[un 
continued these talks to the \ery 
moment the first bombs fell )Sccond, 
Yamamoto had exceeded his auth- 
ority in concerning himself with 
such a plan at all; the planning 
function belonged to the Naval 
Cleneral StaiT. Unless that body 
approved Yamamoto’s [iroject — 
which Nagumo thought unlikel\ - 
ir was doomed to collect dust in the 
secret files. 

The Empero^ Speaks 

Despitk Nagumo's hopes, the in- 
exorable m.irch towards war contin- 
ued. In late Ji:l\, Japan established a 
“protectorate” over French Iiido- 
(’hina, and elements of her “New 

144 


Order,” already occupying the 
northern part of the country, moved 
swiftly .to take over the whole. A 
few days later, President Roosevelt 
froze all Japanese assets in the 
United States; prohibited Japanese 
vessels from loading or unloading 
cargo in any U.S. port; and, having 
already stopped shipments of iron 
and scrap the year before, now 
also barred sales of U.S. petroleum 
to |apan. Britain and the Nether- 
lands took similar measures. 

“Economic war is already de- 
clared,” said a Japanese newspaper. 
“It IS not difficult to imagine what 
will come next.” 

On September 6, Emperor Hiro- 
hito convened Japan’s leaders foi a 
grim stocktaking. Thc\ gathered 
round a long, rectangular table in 
the No 1 East Room of the Imperial 
Palace, with the Fimperor on a d.iis 
at the head. 

His Majesty Stit motionless and 
seemingly impassive as Prime Min- 
ister 1^’umimaro Koiiove opened the 
conference bv reading an “Outline 
Plan for National Pohev,” which 
disclcjsed th.it : • 

1. The empire was determined to 
risk w.ir with the United States, 
Britain and the Netherlands to 
achieve its economic ends, and war 
prcpar.ili<ins were to be completed 
In late October. 

2 . Until that provisional cut-off 
date, the empire would try to real- 
ize Its demands thnmgh negotia- 
tions. 

The nation’s minimum demands, 




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THE READER’S DIGEST 


however, doomed the oerotiations 
to failure, since their nilfilment 
would secure for Japan a powerful 
empire while virtually tying the 
hands of the United States, Britain 
and the Netherlands in the Far East. 

One by one the various leaders 
now stood up and discussed the sit- 
uation. All emphasized the need for 
haste. Japan had to act while she 
still had stockpiles of essential ma- 
terials, since British hostility and 
the U.S. embargo made it impos- 
sible to replenish them. General 
Suzuki, for example, pointed out 
that scarcely more than a year’s sup- 
ply of oil remained. 

Last to speak was Baron Yoshi- 
michi Hara (speaking for the Em- 
peror). “The outline of national 
policy,’’ he said, “left the impression 
that war was stressed and diplomacy 
given secondary consideration. Am 


Emperor Hirohito 





I right in believing that everything 
possible is being done to save the 
situation by dipkimatic means 

There was a brief silence. Then 
Admiral Koshiro Oikawa, the Navy 
Minister, hastily gave his assurance 
that this was so. But apparendy he 
was not convincing. Presendy, to 
everyone’s astonishment, the Em- 
peror himself rose to address the 
conference. 

Never before had Hirohito ad- 
dressed an Imperial Conference 
personally. Yet diere he stood, the 
living symbol of empire, Japan’s 
124th emperor, shedding his “divine 
radiance.’’ 

He took from his pocket a poem 
endtled “The Four Sides of die 
Sea,’’ written by his grandfather, 
Emperor Meiji. With all members 
of the conference hardly daring 
to breathe, Hirohito in a mood of 
high seriousness read the poem 
aloud : 

I think all the people of the world 

arc brethren. 

Then why are the waves and 

winds so unsettled today.? 

The Emperor told his listeners 
that he had read the poem over and 
over again. Why wasn’t it possible 
to introduce into the present his 
grandfather’s ideal of internadonal 
peace.? 

A taut stillness ensued, until final- 
ly the chief of the Naval General 
Staff answered that certainly the 
Supreme Command recognized the 
importance of diplomacy; they 






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advocated armed force only as a last 
resort The chief of the Army Gen- 
eral Staff echoed this opinion, but 
the Emperor was far from satisfied. 
The conference adjourned, Premier 
Konoye urrote, “in an atmosphere 
of unprecedented tenseness.” 

Those who believe that Hiro- 
hito could have vetoed the Pearl 
Harbour plan had he wished, or had 
he been a stronger character, do not 
understand the Emperor’s subtle 
and complex position. He could 
only counsel — and ratify. For the 
Emperor must be at one with his 

E -nment to preserve the mono- 
unity of me nation. He was 
lashed to the mast of his own 
boundless prestige. 

At this juncture, however. Em- 
peror Hirohito did not even know 
of the projected Pearl Harbour 
attack. 

Revolt of the Admirals 

The annual indoor naval games, 
played with model ships on charts 
at the large grey building of the 
Naval Staff College in Tokyo, were 
normally held in November or 
December. 

» Because of the urgency of the 
situation, they were now pushed up 
to September 11-13, and the Naval 
General Staff (which had no en- 
thusiasm for the project) reluctandy 
agreed that the First Air Fleet could 
try out a theoretical attack on Pearl 
Harbour. 

The tireless Genda had worked 
out three possible routes for 


approaching Oahu: a southern, a 
central and a northern course. The 
northern was the shortest and least- 
beaten track, but Nagumo favoured 
the southern route, holding that in 
late autunm the foul weather in the 
north would make that course im- 
possible. 

“If you think it is bad,” Genda 
told him, “remember, the American 
admirals will think the same.” 
Nagumo agreed -to the northern 
approach for the exercises. 

The first attack was a relative 
failure. The Japanese Red Team, 
representing the United States, car- 
ried out anticipated U.S. defence 
measures and spotted Nagumo’s 
force early in the morning. In the 
skies over Oahu the attackers flew 
into a nest of interceptors. The um- 

E ires ruled that Nagumo lost half 
is planes and that two carriers were 
sunk and other units heavily dam- 
aged in the counter-attack that fol- 
lowed. 

A second try did better. Coming 
in directly from the north, wim 
split-second timing that kept them 
beyond the range of American re- 
connaissance planes during daylight 
hours, the fleet was theoretically not 
spotted, and the attack was a sur- 
prise. The umpires ruled that U.S. 
losses were heavy, and' that, except 
for a number of planes shot down, 
the Japanese task force escaped un- 
scathed. 

Surprisingly, this demonstration 
arousra strong opposition to the 
plan. Some critics thought the whole 

149 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


scheme unwarralitcdly reckless. 
Others, with their eyes fixed on the 
Southern Operation, felt that this 
alone would strain japan’s naval 
icsourccs to the limit. Lastly, the 
battleship admirals were honestly 
convinced that it was a mistake to 
rely on ships as thinly armoured as 
were the carriers. 

For the battleship concept was still 
powerful in the lapanese Navy, as 
w'itncss the super-battleships then 
under construction. Not 351OO0- 
tonners like Yamamoto’s flagship, 
Xagaio; not 55,000-tonners like 
H.M.S. King George V or the new 
U.S. South Da\okitf:hss\ not 4*5, 000- 
tonners like the big boys the Allies 
produced later in ihe war — H.M.S. 
VunguurJ and U.S.S. Mtssotm— hut 
full-scale monslers of the naval deep 
like Musashi and Yamaio, ships 
with j net dispkiLement of 62 ,(Xk) 
tons, the largest the world had e\cr 
seen, with nine iS-a-inch guns to 
growl from their decks. 

knowing that these leviathans 
would be splashing rhiough the seas 
in late and c.irK 1(^42, the japa 
nesc battleship admirals breathed a 
seicnc confidence in their doctrines 
of sea warfare, and a corresponding 
distrust of naval-airpower concepts. 
In the month after the September 
war games, officers who were de- 
termined to halt the dangerous Pearl 
Harbour plan held at least half a 
dozen clandestine meetings. 

But in Admiral Yamamoto these 
conservatives were up against an 
opponent 01 formidable strength. A 
/50 


photograph of Yamamoto taken 
at the height of his power reveals 
a man short even by Japanese stan- 
dards — five foot, three inches. His 
broad shoulders were accentuated 
by massive epaulettes, and his bar- 
rel chest was crowded with me- 
dals and orders. The effect would 
be comic except for the face. Full- 
lipped, straight-nosed and large- 
eyed, with grey hair worn in an 
uncompromising crew cut, it is the 
face of a man of action, of immense 
willpower. 

As a \outh, he had been fanaticaf 
in his devotion to his studies. To 
conccntMtc more intensely, he 
would peel off successive layers of 
clothing in the hope that the cold 
might chase away fatigue. Many a 
frcr/ing night his parents had found 
him .liinost naked in his small 
room, poring over algebra or a 
book of gcometrv . 

Yamamoto Plays His Ace 

WiiFA lit heard about the 
“Kibbling" against Pearl Harbour, 
Yamamoto on Octolw 11 sum- 
moned about 50 of his licet com, 
manders to the flagship Naguto, 
ostcnsibK to review their war plans. 
After a day-long rehearsal of man- 
oeuvres and a congenial dinner, the 
group assembled on the quarterdeck 
for a final conference. This was to 
be off the record, they were assured, 
but now wa,s the time to bring up 
any objections they might have to 
Pearl Harbour. 

One by one, various admirals 



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voiced their misgivings. Time was 
running perilously short for opera- 
tions in the northern Pacific. High 
seas and had weather would make 
refuelling impossible. Moreover, 
Soviet Russia had to he watched. 
Even Admiral Onishi, in whom 
Yamamoto had confided in January, 
now believed the plan unwise wim 
the available carrier-plane forces. 
Nagumo, who spoke last, rumbled 
on at length about the risks. What if 
the Americans were fully prepared, 
he asked, and luring the Japanese 
into a disastrous trap.^ 

"The general feeling of the high- 
ranking olficers was that it was too 
late,” said Gcnda. “The political 
scene had deteriorated so far that the 
U.S. Navy would be making prepa- 
rations to meet a surprise attack.” 

The' last Hush of sunset had almost 
died on the horizon when Yama- 
moto arose. He began slowly, but 
with unmistakable determination. 
He had noted the points made, he 
said, and they would be considered. 
But he had been studying the entire 
strategic situation a long time. The 
operation against Hawaii was essen- 
tial to Japan’s grand strategy. With- 
out it the southern thrust would fail. 
Therefore he wanted one thing 
understood : “So king as I am Com- 
mander-in-Chief of the combined 
fleet, Pearl Harbour will be at- 
tacked.” 

The statement cleared the atmos- 
phere once and for all. Every fleet 
commander knew that from now on 
there would be no more bickering, 


TREACHERY 

no more complaints. If Japan 
fought, the fleet would go to war 
with the exhilarating unity of a 
great crusade. 

But the Naval General Staff was 
still adamandy opposed to Pearl 
Hiirbour, and here Yamamoto was 
not dealing with officers under his 
command, but with the pinnacle of 
naval hierarchy. Yamamoto was not 
a good poker player for nothing, 
however. Late in October he decided 
to send an emissary to the Naval 
(iencral Staff for a showdown. He 
picked his senior staff officer. Cap- 
tain Kameto Kuroshinia, for the 
task, and armed him with a final, 
bold weapon, if nothing else availed. 

Kurosnima went straight to Cap- 
tain Sadatoshi Tomioka, chief of 
the Operadons Section of the Naval 
General Staff. He did not dally 
with niceties. “Admiral Yamamoto 
has ordered me to get immediate 
clarification on the Pearl Harbour 
operation,” he announced. “Will it 
be approved or not? Time is run- 
ning short. We must have an answer 
without delay." 

Tomioka, not to be stampeded, 
paraded all the standard criticisms 
of the scheme. Kuroshima rebutted 
with Yamamoto’s best arguments, 
but he saw at last that he was getting 
nowhere. 

“Admiral Yamamoto insists that 
his plan be adopted,” he said. “He 
has authorized me to state that if it 
is not, then he can no longer be held 
responsible for the security of the 
empire. He will have no alternative 

^53 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


but to resign and with him his entire 
staff.” 

Tomioka's eyes went wide, his 
mouth fell open. The hugeness of 
the threat impressed him deeply. 
Still he agreed to the attack only as 
far as he personally was concerned. 
So Kuroshima was passed to the 
next man in line, and, once more, 
hurled Yamamoto’s thunderbolt. 
Finally the Naval General Staff, act- 
ing as a body, sanctioned the Pearl 
Harbour attack. It was a gieat 
victory, but Yamamoto’s position 
and influence in the Japanese Navy 
were unique. Not once did any 
member of the Naval General Staff, 
or any one else, consider going to 
war without Yamamoto at the helm 


January 

of the combined fleet. ''It was incon- 
ceivable,” one of the admirals said 
later. 

Espiemage on Oahu 

From this time on, Japanese es- 
pionage in Hawaii was urgendy 
stepped up. Regular reports on 
which U.S. warships were in port 
no longer sufficed. Instead, Tokyo 
now had to know exaedy where 
each ship was berthed, and innum- 
erable questions were asked about 
air patrols and the disposition of 
planes. 

Most of this information was to 
be had by perfectly legal means, 
simply for the looking. Certain 
members of the Japanese consulate 


cool 

crystal 

cool 


^54 




TORAl—FOR TREACHERY 


11)64 

in Honolulu made an efficient team 
for this task, the star performer 
being a young clerk who called 
himself Tadashi Morimura. His 
actual name, however, was Takeo 
Yoshikawa, and he was a former 
ensign in the Imperial Navy. 

When Yoshikawa arrived in Ha- 
waii on March 28, 1941, he reported 
to Consul-General Nagao Kita, a 
career diplomat recently transferred 
to Honolulu to work with him. Ex- 
amining his new junior with inter- 
est, Kita saw a slender, handsome 
lad of medium height who seemed 
much younger than his 29 years and 
wildly unlike a master spy. Indeed, 
he appeared touchingly naive, the 
type older men call “son,” old ladies 


fuss over and young girls flutter 
round. He had had no previous ex- 
erience as an agent, and moreover 
e had lost the first joint of his left 
index finger— just the sort of dis- 
fi^rement that could be a dead 
give-away, Kita wondered whether 
Yoshikawa was the man for the job. 
But Tokyo did not make mistakes 
in such matters. Yoshikawa’s very 
lack of experience was an advan- 
tage, as he had never appeared on 
a list of attaches to arouse the curi- 
osity of U.S. intelligence agencies. 
And his preparation was exemplary. 
Coming from a modest background 
(his father was a policeman), he at- 
tended the naval academy and had 
served as an ensign for about a year 



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when illness forced him to retire 
from the Navy. 

His taste of salt water had spoilt 
him for civilian life, and for months 
he moped unhappily. Then a naval 
personnel officer visited him and 
suggested that the Navy could still 
find a place for him if he was will- 
ing to serve as an intelligence agent. 
He would have to forgo all hope of 
advancement; but this seemed a 
small price to pay for return to his 
beloved Navy. 

Instructions to Yoshikawa were 
simple. He was to become an expert 
on the U.S. Pacific Fleet and its 
(Juam, Manila and Pearl Harbour 
bases; and he was to improve his 
Elnglish. For the next four years he 
remained on the American Desk, 
studying Janes Fighting Ships and 
Aircraft, In time he knew every U.S. 
fighting ship and aircraft by name, 
outline and technical characteristics. 

In late 1940 he was instructed to 
take the Foreign Ministry’s English- 
language examinaticjns so that he 
could be appointed a junior diplo- 
mat to “cover” his true mission. Ac- 
cording to thcassistant chief of Naval 
^ Intelligence at the time, this arrange- 
ment was not unusual. A naval 
officer would be cashiered and de- 
liberately made a civilian. He would 
then get a job in the Japanese 
Foreign Office and be sent where he 
could do the Navy the most good. 
In general, this procedure fits Yoshi- 
kawa’s case : a discreet hint to the 
Navy’s medical corps that Ensign 
Yoshikawa would be more valuable 


out of uniform than in, a suitable 
period of idleness to put him in a 
receptive mood, and then . . . 

In Honolulu, after being as- 
signed a nominal job— he was offi- 
cially registered with the U.S. State 
Department as chancellor of the 
consulate- -Yoshikawa plunged into 
work. He read the Honolulu papers 
from beginning to end each day, 
paying particular attention to ship- 
ping news and t(^ social items about 
U.S. naval personnel. A daily stroll 
through Pearl City gave him a per- 
fect view of Ford Island and its air- 
strip. And, two or three times a 
week, he stopped for a snack at a 
lunchroom and soda fountain run by 
an elderly Japanese on the pier at the 
end of the Pearl City peninsula. This 
was just opposite Ford Island, and 
the nearest he could get to Pearl 
Harbour. Here he could learn many 
things — Was the fleet going out too 
soon? Was it taking on new sup- 
plies^ — by direct observation. At 
night, he frequented bars popular 
with American servicemen, listen- 
ing to service gossip but seldom 
posing direct questions lest he 
attract attention to himself. 

Fear of detection always kept him 
edgy, for the shadow of the FBI 
hovered over him unceasingly. Kita 
had warned him of that formidable 
organization, and he was constantly 
afraid it would install recording 
mechanisms in the consulate or in 
one of the restaurants he frequented. 
Yoshikawa often reported to Kita 
late at night, after the rest of the 

^57 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


staff were in bed; and he and Kita 
would carry on their top-secret dis- 
cussions by writing notes to each 
other, then burning them. 

Yoshikawa became a boon to 
Honolulu’s taxi drivers, taking 
many drives and sometimes chang- 
ing cars several times on the way. 
Kita vetoed his having a car of his 
own as too dangerous. The number 
plate would make him too easy to 
identify and trail, and the slightest 
accident would mean an embarras- 
sing police report. 

Hawaiian tourist traffic offered 
Yoshikawa many opportunities. Un- 
til the United States embargoed all 
trade with Japan, he would meet 
each incoming Japanese ship, round 
up a group of disembarking Japa- 
nese nationals, and take these unsus- 
pecting and pleasantly surprised 
travellers on sight-seeing tours. 

This gave him cover for the large 
number of trips he made, which 
might otherwise have become 
suspicious. Once he donned his 


brightest Hawaiian shirt and took 
one of his geisha friends for a tour- 
ist flight over Oahu, a jaunt that 
give him a clear air view of both 
Wheeler and Hickam airfields. He 
also scouted the airfields from the 
water, sometimes on fishing trips, 
sometimes as a swimmer. 

The cane fields at Aica gave the 
best possible view of Pearl Harbour. 
Several times Yoshikawa dressed in 
workman’s clothes and studied the 
fleet from there, using a different 
cane field each time, and never stay- 
ing longer than 30 minutes. 

One of Yoshikawa's favourite 
haunts was Shuncho-ro (Spring 
Tide Restaurant), a Japanese-stylc 
teahouse on Alcwa Heights that 
commanded an excellent view of 
Pearl Harbour and Hickam Field. 
Sometimes he would feign getting 
too drunk to be moved, and the 
friendly Shuncho-ro management 
would discreetly tuck him away for 
the night in a room overlooking the 
harbour. On one occasion Yoshikawa 


Master spy TaJ^eo Yoshtl^awa on Oahu island, whae Pearl Harbour i^situatcd 




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saw the fleet steam out of the har- 
bour in the early morning— a majes- 
tic sight to thrill the heart of any 
sailor. He watched with keen pro- 
fessional interest, checking the 
length of time necessary to get the 
fleet out, the type of manoeuvre 
used and the position each ship as- 
sumed. This was important infor- 
mation for Tokyo, for if the U.S. 
fleet attempted to sortie when the 
attack commenced, the Japanese 
could adjust their schedule accord- 
ingly. 

On August 7, when Wheeler 
Field held an “open day” to which 
the public was cordially invited, 
Yoshikawa was among those who 
eagerly accepted the invitation. 
Cameras were strictl) forbidden, 
but this prohibition bothered him 
not at all. He saw everything, 
mi.s 5 cd nothing, and wrote up his 
impressions the moment he returned 
to the consulate. 

Yoshikawa's schedule was killing. 
Holidays did not exist for him, and 
Sunday was just another day. Al- 
though Japan had other espionage 
networks in Hawaii, Yoshikawa 
considered them, with some reason, 
the work of amateurs. 

The Sleeping Giant 

Were American leaders aware 
that Pearl Harbour was a potential 
target? Certainly! 

“If war eventuates with Japan,” 
Secretary of the U.S, Navy Frank 
Knox wrote to the U.S, Secretary of 
War Henry Stimson on January 24, 
160 


1941, “it is believed easily possible 
that hostilities would be initiated by 
a surprise attack upon the fleet or 
the naval base at Pearl Harbour.” 

Three days later (scarcely two 
weeks after Yamamoto had confid- 
ed his scheme to Onishi) the U.S. 
Ambassador to Japan, Joseph Grew, 
sent a coded message to the U.S. 
State Department : 

My Peruvian colleague has 
heard from many quarters, in- 
cluding a Japanese one, that a sur- 

E rise attack on Pearl Harbour is < 
eing planned in case of trouble 
between Japan and the United 
States. He said he was passing this 
on because it had come to him 
from many sources, although the 
plan seemed fantastic. 

The State Department passed this 
tip-o(T— one or the greatest in 
history— to the Navy, which for- 
warded it to Admiral Kimmcl, 
Commandcr-in-Chicf of the U.S. 
Pacific Fleet, with this comment: 

The Division of Naval Intelli- 
gence places no credence in these 
rumours. Based on known data 
regarding the present disposition 
and employment of Japanese 
’ naval and army forces, no move 
against Pearl Harbour appears im- 
minent or planned for in the 
foreseeable future. 

Nevertheless, in a Pacific Fleet 
confidential letter on February 
15, Kimmel assumed that “a declar- 
ation of war might be preceded 
by a surprise attack on ships in 
Pearl Harbour.” 




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This assumption was also in- 
cluded in three brilliant and start- 
lingly accurate staff reports made 
in 1941. The last, a study of “the air 
situation in Hawaii, “ was prepared 
by Colonel William Farthing, U.S. 
commander of the 5th Bombard- 
ment Group of the Hawaiian Air 
I'orce. This prophetic document, 
sent to the U.S. War Department 
on August 20, suggested that Japan 
might stage a surprise attack on 
Pearl Harbour, probably using six 
carriers; that the most advantageous 
time to launch such an air strike 
would be at dawn; and that the 
most likely approach would be from 
the, north. 

To forestall such an attack, the 
report recommended among other 
defence measures that air patrols 
“maintain a complete and thorough 
^ho-degree search of the Hawaiian 
area during daylight.” To do so, the 
Hawaiian Air Force would need 
“180 B-iyD-tvpe aircraft or other 
four-engine bombers with equal op- 
erating range.” 

If planning could have killed, the 
Japanese would have been dead 
ducks. But the U.S. Army Air Force 
did not have 180 Flying Fortresse.s. 
And those available were heavily 
committed to the Philippines, to 
Britain and the Atlantic. Thus, 
when the Japanese struck on Decem- 
ber 7, the U.S. Air Force had only 
12 B-iy’s in Hawaii. 

By the summer of 1940, U.S. cryp- 
tographers had broken the Japanese 
diplomatic code, one of the most 
762 


brilliant coups in intelligence an- 
nals. Yoshikawa’s espionage reports 
and Tokyo’s replies, the entire flow 
of messages to and from the Japa- 
nese Embassy in Washington— all 
were therefore now open to the 
United States. But this vast treasure 
trove might as well have remained 
buried. Vital intercepts piled up un- 
translated, sometimes for more than 
a week. Dissemination, that most 
crucial of intelligence requirements, 
was faulty, partly from sheer inept- 
ness, partly from a zealous anxiety 
to protect sources. Since dissemina- 
tion might lead the Japanese to sus- 
pect that their code had been 
broken, information was often with- 
held from those who needed it most. 
Admiral Kimmcl asserts that none 
of the so-called “Magic” intercepts 
ever reached him at all. 

Underlying U.S. relations with 
the Japanese was a woeful under- 
estimaiion of this gifted people. To 
most Americans, a japane.se was a 
funny little man with buck teeth and 
horn-rimmed glasses ; industrious 
but literal-minded; an unimagina- 
tive copycat. Self-styled experts 
claimed that the peculiar structure 
of their eves made the Japanese poor 
pilots. A diplomatic report of the 
mid-’ju’s read : “In the car canals of 
the Japanese there is an actual phys- 
ical defect by which a defective sense 
of equilibrium is produced.” 

Japan was a paper tiger, her war 
machinery flimsy, her aircraft a mess 
of “hybrid combinations,” her naval 
ships top-heavy and inferior. In the 





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event of a major conflict, her fragile 
empire would shatter like a teacup 
hurled against a brick wall. Japan’s 
papiermache cities made her the 
most vulnerable country in the 
world to air attack — “a bomber’s 
dream.” Moreover, she was suffer- 
ing from pernicious military 
anaemia as her life blood poured 
into the vast river that was China; 
for her to challenge the might of 
the United States would be national 
suicide. 

As for Uncle Sam’s multi-million- 
dollar bastion in the central Pacific, 
that was safe and secure. “Pearl 
U.irbour is probably the best naval 
base* in the world today; no point is 
k'ttcr situated, ktter defended or 
better supplied," wrote the U S. 
Secretary of the Navy nine months 
before “Hloody Sunday.” Journalist 
Clarke Heach added on Septemkr 6, 
“A Japanese attack on Hawaii is re- 
garded as the most unlikely thing in 
the world, with one chance in a mil- 
lion of being successful.” Oracular 
experts and amateur strategists in 
almost endless profusion babbled 
, the defence myth of the day : “Im- 
pregnable l^earl Harbour, Gibraltar 
()f the Pacific.” 

Finally, as if by a magician’s trick 
of misdirection, autumn saw the 
Americans turn their backs on Pearl 
Harlxmr to face the steadily mount- 
ing crisis in the Atlantic. The battle 
of the Atlantic shipping lanes 
reached a climax on September 4, 
when a German submarine torpe- 
doed a U.S. destroyer near Iceland, 


and in the tumult, Japan was rele- 
gated to the back pages of American 
newspapers, never quite to regain 
the headlines until December 7. 
“The Pacific is still very much a part 
of the world situation,’’ Kimmcl 
wrote wistfully to Admiral Harold 
Stark, U.S. Chief of Naval Opera- 
tions, on September 12. But Stark 
replied comfortingly, “Personally, I 
do not believe the Japs are going to 
sail into us.” The mood was general. 
As Americans fixed their eyes on the 
Atlantic, they tended to forget that 
the back door was open. 

Forging the Weapons 

Late in September, Commander 
CfcntLi began tiaining the First Air 
Fleet pilots s|X‘cifically for the strike 
at Pearl Harbour. The task was for- 
midable, the more so since the need 
for absolute s(‘crccy made it impos- 
sible to tell the airmen what they 
were being trained for. Different 
types of aircraft— high-level bomb- 
ers, torpedo planes, dive bombers, 
fighters — h.id to be welded into a 
striking force capable of flying in 
perfect mass formation, not with 
just 40 or 50 planes but with several 
hundred. There was little time to 
accomplish this; time was running 
out with every tick of the clock. 

The leader of such a force would 
need absolute mastery of his craft, 
endless patience and unusual quali- 
ties of leadership, (icnda knew ex- 
actly the right man for the job : his 
naval-academy classmate. Comman- 
der Mitsuo Fuchida. 

Ids 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


At 39, Fuchida was still an active 
pilot (as Genda was not). He was a 
veteran of the war in China, had 
logged over 3,000 flying hours, flew 
his plane as though he were part of 
it, and had the reputation or being 
the hardest-working officer in the 
Japanese Navy. When Genda told 
him of the Pearl Harbour plan, 
Fuchida took to it as a hawk to the 
wind. 

The two men proved ideal foils 
for each other, Genda generating 
brilliant and daring ideas which 
Fuchida patiently hammered into 
practical reality. Like many gifted 
men, Genda regarded his own bril- 
liance as the norm and was impa- 
tient when others were less mentally 
agile. Since tact was not his strong 
suit, he commanded admiration 
rather than affection, and lacked the 
gift of drawing men to him. 

Fuchida, however, had been given 
this magnetic warmth at birth. His 
men instinctively turned to him, 
almost literally worshipped him. 
The First Air Fleet had drawn the 
cream of Japan's naval air arm — the 
spirited, the sensitive, the strong. 
Such men arc never easy to handle, 
but from the start Fuchida con- 
trolled his mettlesome charges with 
a sure hand. As he later described it, 
“Genda wrote the script. My pilots 
and I produced it." i 

The script called for dive bomb- 
ing with pinpoint accuracy. Fuchida 
delivered this by simply lowering 
the altitude at which the pilots re- 
leased their bombs. The release 
166 


point had been 1,950 feet; he made 
it 1,500. The tactic required the 
pilots to dive straight into the jaws 
of death and to pull out steeply at 
the last possible moment. But the 
men were happy to do it, and the ac- 
curacy of the dive bombers zoomed 
sharply upward. 

High-level bombing was more dif- 
flcult to improve. Japan had no 
equivalent of the United States’ ad- 
vanced Norden bombsight, and 
aiming depended solely on good 
eyesight and an intuitive feel for the. 
right moment. The Navy’s high- 
level bombing record was sorry in- 
deed. Even in China, with scarcely 
any air opposition, its accuracy rate 
remained a dismal ten per cent or 
less. 

But much can be accomplished 
through relentless, intelligent prac- 
tice. Fuchida selected an outstand- 
ing bomb-aimer for the leading 
plane in each bombing squadron, 
saw to it that he always flew with 
the same pilot so that the two be- 
came used to each other, then set 
about developing the precision of 
their timing with unremitting prac- 
tice. Faimers in the Izumi neigh- 
bourhood, where much of this train- 
ing was done, complained that the 
constant din of engines had caused 
their chickens to stop laying. But in 
the end Fuchida achieved remark- 
able results. At a bombing contest 
held on October 24, with a target 
ship zigzagging at high speed 
through a strong wind, the bombers 
scored 50-per-ccnt hits. Against an 



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TORAI—FOR TREACHERY 


anchored ship, Fuchida estimated 
that the same five-plane formation 
might score 8o-per-cent hits. In 
effect, he had added a formidable 
new weapon to Japan’s naval air 
strength. 

A New Kind of Torpedo 

At Fuchida’s first briefing on 
I’carl Harbour, which occurred at a 
staff meeting aboard Nagumo’s 
flagship, Al{agi, Oenda had out- 
lined the problems in regard to tor- 
|iedo attack. The U.S. ships were 
moored in double rows, and the 
inboard ships could not be reached 
by torpedoes at all. Moreover, the 
anchorage was so narrow that the 
outboard ships were only i,6oo feet 
from the other shore of the harbour, 
and on that shore were high cranes, 
chimneys and other dockyard- 
area obstructions. 

japan had no torpedo that was 
effective under the circumstances. 
The water in Pearl Harbour was 
only 40 feet deep, and no matter 
how low a torpedo plane flew before 
release, the existing torpedo would 
sink at least 70 feet below the sur- 
face befcie beginning its run. This 
would, of course, send it harmlessly 
into the mud. 

Technicians were working furi- 
ously to perfect a torpedo that would 
run shallow from the start. If they 
succeeded, it would certainly be the 
most efficient means of destruction. 
So, would Fuchida set about train- 
ing the crews anyway.? 

Kagoshima Bay was selected as a 


training site because it is shaped 
much like Pearl Harbour. An active 
4,ooo-foot volcano in the bay repre- 
sented Ford Island. Kagoshima City 
simulated the conditions of the U.S. 
Navy dockyard, with the Yamaga- 
taya Department Store passing for 
the main dockyard building. 

On a clear, pleasant autumn day, 
Fuchida lined up his torpedo plane 
crews at Kagoshima and made a 



( owwiifiJtr Mituu) riuliiilit 


deliberately deadpan announce- 
ment. “You have just fini.shcd your 
preliminarv training by engaging in 
a simulated fleet engagement at sea 
Now, as an advanced course, you 
will train in shallow-^^ater torpedo- 
ing against anchored ships.’’ 

Fuchida threw this out so casually 
that the crews took no particular 
notice of it. His assistant, Lieuten- 
ant-Commander Shigeharu Miirata, 
who knew of the Pearl Harbour 

l(Hi 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


plan, listened with sardonic amuse- 
ment and said later that Fuchida 
would have made a fine actor. 

If anything, the crews were rather 
baffled and annoyed. They con- 
sidered it much more important to 
train in attacking a moving target, 
wh’ch was more difficult to hit. But 
torpedo accuracy was not Fuchida ’s 
major worry. With the huge, solidly 
anchored American ships as targets, 
hits were inevitable once the Japa- 
nese had a shallow-water torpedo. 

“Since no training torpedoes are 
read) as yet,” Fuchida told his air- 
men, “we will just go through the 
motions.” 

The instructions he gave were 
startling. The pilots were to climb 
to 6,500 feet, assemble north of the 
city and begin a run towards the 
bay. As they flew south, they were 
to drop to the tree-skimming alti- 
tude of 130 feet. 

This was a shocker for the pilots. 
Fuchida, the stickler for safety regu- 
lations and for maintaining flight 
discipline, instructing them to fly at 
a height of only 130 feet over a city* 
More shocks were to come. As they 
passed over the Yamagataya De- 
partment Store, Fuchida continued, 
they would find a storage tank on 
the shore. Lining up on this, they 
would come down to 65 feet, hold 
the plane on an even keel at a speed 
of 150 knots and release ffle torpedo 
towards a target about 1,600 feet 
from the shoreline. 

Fuchida ’s men were now almost 
beyond further surprise. At this 
170 


level, the slightest mistake would 
send the planes into the bay. 

After releasing the torpedo, 
Fuchida went on, each pilot would 
climb to the right and return to the 
base. He warned that this would 
be difficult. The aiming distance 
was short, and many obstacles 
would be encountered on such a low 
flight. Since the whole procedure 
would require a balance between 
boldness and care, Lieutenant- 
Commander Murata would run 
through the manoeuvre to demon-* 
strate. 

Taking him aside, Fuchida asked 
Murata, “('an you do it.^” It was 
like asking the devil if he could sin. 
Murata, the Navy's acknowledged 
torpedo ace, was the type to have 
been willing to try the entire man- 
oeuvre flying upside down. 

The people of Kagoshima were 
greatly surprised that day to see 
plane after plane pour out of the 
valley towards the sea, barely clear- 
ing the roofs. Fuchida himself was 
quite satisfied. No one bungled. 

Fucbida says that, as he watched, 
the scene seemed to fade, and he 
saw Pearl Harbour itself, with 
Pennsylvania, Nevada, Saratoga, 
Lexington, Arizona lying at anchor. 
Then he saw torpedoes leaving 
white trails, water spouts shooting 
skyward, the boom of explosions, 
listing ships, a fierce anti-aircraft 
barrage. 

Torpedo - bombing instruction 
now took place daily, and the citi- 
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THE READER'S DIGEST 


of the discipline of the Navy. In- 
deed, the authorities seemed to en- 
courage the airmen to buzz the city 
at will. 

Meanwhile, (Jenda was breathing 
down the neck of Navy Research, 
demanding a shallow-water tor- 
pedo. The harassed technicians 
mediodicallv tested all the numerous 
fins and stabilizers that had ever 
been proposed for torpedo control. 
Th-‘y got nowhere until, in their 
frantic search, they hit on a control 
system designed solely as an aerial 
stabilizer, and decided to try it for 
under-water running. 

Surprisingly, it worked, although 
by no means perfectly. When the 
first batch of new torjiedocs was 
ready, only about half kept to the 
desired depth. Further exfXTimcnts 
eventually raised this lo 8 o per cent. 

The development came barely in 
lime. Even though the new fin was 
hurried into production, the first ^o 
torpedoes were not ready until mid- 
October. The last loo could not be 
delivered until the end of Novem- 
ber, and even then civilian work- 
men had to stay aboard the carriers, 
when they rendezvous’d in the 
Kuriles, to complete the final as- 
sembly there. 

Special Intelligence Mission 

“If an enemy leaves indoor open, 
you must rush in,” wrote Sun Tzu, 
a classic Chinese military authority 
much admired in Japan. The United 
States now left the door slightly ajar 
in Hawaii, and the Japanese rushed 
172 


in to make a final intelligence coup. 

In September, the Tokyo govern- 
ment opened negotiations aimed at 
getting the U.S. embargo on Japa- 
nese shipping relaxed. After weeks 
of discussion lictwcen Ambassador 
Kichisaburo Nomura and U.S. 
Secretary of State Cordell Hull, it 
was agreed that three passenger ves- 
sels could sail from Japan to Hawaii 
and the United States, provided, 
they did not carry commercial 
cargo. The U.S. CJovernment made 
this concession in good faith, be- 
lieving that It would help to ease 
existing tcn.sions. Japan, guided by 
Sun Tzu’s typically Oriental philo- 
sophy, hastened to take advantage 
of the silu.ition. 

Tututa Mufii, first of the Japanese 
ships to .sail, put into Honolulu on 
OctolxT 2^. Shortly after the vessel 
docked, Consul'CIeneral Kita 
stepped aboard and the captain 
handed him a sealed envelope. It 
was from the Naval (Jeneral Staff, 
asking, along with other rccjucsts, 
for a deLiiled map providing the 
location, size and strength of every 
military establishment on Oahu. A 

j 

special mission would soon arrive to 
pick this up and to confer on ocher 
urgently im[)ortant matters. 

The mission eonsisted of Licul- 
enant-(k)mmandcr Suguru Suzuki, 
who was an authority on U.S. air 
power in the Pacific, and Lieut- 
enant-Commander Toshihide Mae- 
jima, .1 submarine expert. They 
were to make their own estimate of 
the situation at Pearl Harbour, then 




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TORAI--FOR TREACHERY 


report back to the Naval General 
Staff in person. 

Tatuta Maru, after stopping in 
Hawaii, proceeded to the United 
States. The second permitted Japa- 
nese ship, Taiyo Marti, which car- 
ried Suzuki and Macjima, was 
registered to go to Hawaii only. In 
Tokyo, a government spokesman 
explained to curious foreign corre 
spondents that this was simply a 
matter of “convenience in schedul- 
ing.” 

Taiyo Maru sailed from Yoko- 
hama on October 22. The name of 
ne;thci Su/Aiki nor Macjima ap- 
peared on the passenger list; Suzuki 
was listed as assist.int [lurser, 
Macjima as the ship’s doctor. Once 
bevond sight of land, the vessel 
turned northward and followed the 
northern route that the Pearl Har- 
bour attack fleet planned to take. 
Throughout the voyage the two 
oiliccrs, taking turns day and night, 
carefully scanned the horizon. 

The results were bevond expecta- 
tions. Not a single vessel of any 
kind was sighted during the entire 
passage to Hawaii. The weather was 
uniformly auspicious — mostly 
leaden skies with just enough fog to 
provide a thin curtain of conceal- 
ment. Not until the ship was about 
80 miles off Oahu did the first U.S, 
patrol plane poke its nose through 
the clouds. 

Taiyo* Maru nudged into Hono- 
lulu harbour at 8.30 a.m. on Satur- 
day, November i. The timing was 
carefully planned. It was a week-end 


and the approximate hour of the 
projected attack. The liner anchored 
at Pier 8 near Aloha Tower, and 
from the stern the two officers 
could, with binoculars, keep a steady 
watch on Pearl Harbour and the 
surrounding area. 

The ship was in port for five 
days. During the entire time both 
Suzuki and Maejima remained 
aboard ship. This was according to 
orders. The Naval General Staff 
wanted neither agent to be seen or 
questioned by U.S. officials; they 
wanted to arouse no suspicion of 
any kind. Consul-General Kita 
visited them three times in all, 
bringing two members of the consu- 
late with him to carry materials on 
or off the ship. Thus, if a body 
search were unexpectedly made by 
U.S. counter-intelligence, nothing 
would be found on him. If a minor 
official were caught violating regu- 
lations, it might be explained away. 

Kita did not allow the master spy 
Yoshikawa near the vessel, in case 
the FBI were trailing him, but 
Suzuki handed Kita a long ques- 
tionnaire for Yoshikawa to answer. 
Among other things, the Naval 
General Staff wanted to know 
whether Oahu was on the qui vive. 
Would the Americans spring to 
arms at a moment’s notice? Or 
could they be caught napping ^ 
Yoshikawa’s answers were favour- 
able. 

Yoshikawa gave the detailed 
map, the long questionnaire and all 
his other findings to Kita, and one 

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()t Kiti’s assistants walked blithely 
up the gangplank with this precious 
cargo hidden under a local news 
piper 1 here was i general sigh of 
relief when the task wa* safely le 
complished 

I u\o ^fan^ silled back to Japan 
oil \o\cmbcr 5 The passengers 
who cmbirkcd on her were subject 
lo “one of the most extensive eus 
toms inspections to be held on 
1 lonolulu s witerfront ’ No eontn 
hind w IS found in the bnggige or 
(in the persons of anv of them 

Rendezvous in the Kuriles 

Tul I u F of prepirition wis now 
in crescendo On Novcmlxi 6 f 11 
ehidi stiged 1 hn il dress rehtirsil 
which (luphe ited the Pe irl H irbour 
attiek m cverv possible wi\, using 
1 tisk force of i\ earners ind more 
thin pi ines ind with the tirget 
ships 2(X) miles from the hunching 
point IS ihc\ woiilc! be at Oihii 
1 wo e irlier dr\ runs h id gone bad 
ly and Admir il Y imamoto h id 
been displc ised ind highly critic il 
1 his third run through w is ilmost 
perfectly coordiniteel Yamamoto 
w is t(x) buss elsewhere to witness it, 
but from Naguto which sersed as 
(;ne of the lirget ships, came the 
ippriisil blinked in Morse 
Kolycgi wa migoto nan*' (The 
ittack wis splendid) 

At their b iscs the ships now an 
loided ill unneeessiry items s ich 
IS smdl bolts, sofas, extri chiirs, 
decor itions and personal belong 
mgs Fvtry pound not rtepiired for 
lyG ' 



efficiency or safety was ruthlessly 
pruned away to strip the vessels for 
action and to make room for extra 
fuel. Numerous practice runs had 
left Nagumo reasonably assured 
that refuelling at sea would be pos- 
sible; but every vacant or extra 
room, any gangway space that 
didn’t need to be kept clear, even all 
decks (except the flight decks of the 
carriers), were stacked wjth oil 
drums. 

Elaborate security measures were 
taken to conceal from the Japanese 
people the departure of the attack 
fleet. Both tropical and winter uni- 
forms were issued so that there 
would be no tip-off that the fleet 
was going north. To minimize the 
cKodus of so many carrier planes, 
near-by air units were instructed to 
send extra flights over the air bases 
and towns so that no sudden ab- 
sence of planes would be noticed. 
All shore units were encouraged to 
grant leave to as many men as pos- 
sible, so that plenty of bluejackets 
would be visible on the streets. 

The fleet itself was to travel in 
total radio silence. The volume of 
.messages and instructions from 
Japan would necessarily increase 
once the fleet was under way, but 
the Navy had^ been building up 
dummy traffic for se'» cral weeks so 
that there would be no noticeable 
upsurge of radio activity. Every- 
thing was to give the impression of 
'^business as usual.” 

In the late afternoon of Novem- 
ber 17, Yamamoto and his staff 

'77 




THE READER'S DIGEST 


boarded A{agi, then anchored in 
Saeki Bay, to wish key members of 
the fleet good fortune. Fuchida 
noted that Yamamoto looked sad 
and rather grim. He reflected that 
Yamamoto had not wanted war 
with the United States. 

Yamamoto’s speech was not the 
usual stereotyped pep talk. He told 
the men blundy that although the 
Japanese hoped to achieve surprise, 
everyone should be prepared for 
“t'‘rrific American resistance.” 
Japan had faced many worthy oppo- 
nents in her glorious history — Mon- 
golians, Chinese, Russians — but he 
emphasized that they would now 
face the strongest and most re- 
sourceful opponent of all. Clearly, 
Yamamoto wanted to deliver these 
men from the snare of overconfi- 
dence. 

After the speech, a farewell party 
was held in the wardroom. The at- 
mosphere was serious and full of 
dignity, even a little heavy. But dur- 
ing this interlude Yamamoto bared 
his true feeling. “I expect this opera- 
tion to be a success,” he said. By 
ritualistic ciistcjm, the commanding 
admiral usually merely expressed 
hope for the succe.ss of a coming 
mission. The positive confidence of 
Yamamoto’s phrasing immensely 
heartened his hearers as they ate the 
symb(jlic surume for happiness and 
\achiguri for victory, jthen drank a 
toast to the coming battle in the 
name of the Emperor. "'Banzai! 
Banzai! Banzai!'* 

As night setded, A{agi’ blacked 
178 


out, weighed anchor and slipped 
out to sea in the silent company of 
two destroyers. Similar groups left 
harbours up and down the coast, 
some to sail close to shore, others as 
far out as 100 miles. There were 31 
ships in all — six carriers, two batde- 
ships, two heavy cruisers, one light 
cruiser, three submarines, nine des- 
troyers, eight lumbering tankers. 
Last to leave her base was the carrier 
Kaga, which had remained at 
Sasebo for repairs. 

The spot picked for rendezvous 
was Hitokappu Bay, a bleak, craggy . 
bight on Etorufu, one of the Kuriles 
or “smoking” islands — so named 
for their eternal mists. It lay almost 
1,000 miles north of Tokyo in sparse- 
ly travelled seas, an ideal hide-out 
such as pirates might have used in 
buccaneering days. Except for two 
dismal fishing villages, there was no 
life in the area, and before Nagu- 
mo’s force arrived, all communi- 
cation with the outside world — 
telephone, telegraph and mail ser- 
vice — was abruptly cut off. There, 
in complete isolation, with snow 
falling intermittently from black 
winter skies, the most powerful 
carrier force ever assembled up to* 
that time dropped anchor to await 
further orders. 

**Our Mission Is . . 

Nacumo lost no time getting 
down to business. At 8 p.m. on 
November 22 he summoned his 
staff to tlic carefully guarded room 
aboard A/^agi where scale models of 



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TORAt—FOR TREACHERY 


Pearl Harbour and Oahu, plus all 
the collected data on these prospec- 
tive targets, were kept. Here Lieut- 
enant-Commander Suzuki was to 
brief them on his recent intelligence 
mission to Hawaii. 

Everyone was infinitely attentive 
as Suzuki began to speak. Much of 
what he told them about Pearl Har- 
bour was not new, but any first-hand 
report was avidly welcomed n^. 
He emphasized the U.S. fleet’s haoit 
of returning to its base every week- 
end; described the airfields in detail, 
even to the thickness of the hangar 
roofs; and listed the various com- 
ponents of the island’s air strength 
(He overestimated U.S. Army air 
strength by almost loo per cent, 
reporting 455 planes on Oahu; 
actually there were only 231 Army 
planes in all the Hawaiian Islands.) 

All during Suzuki’s report Nagu- 
mo sat immovable as an idol. 
Though he said not a word, his 
mind absorbed every point. When 
Suzuki had finished and awaited 
questions, all Nagumo’s worries 
were anxiously voiced. What about 
the possibility of being discovered 
en route'^ Was the enemy alert? 
What was the probability of retalia- 
tion? What were the chances of not 
finding the U.S. fleet in Pearl Har- 
bour at all? 

Providing assurance on each point 
was a big order, and Suzuki could 
not hope to dispel all Nagumo’s 
chronic fears. He could only repeat 
what he had already told the Naval 
General Stafl in Tokyo : the facts in 


the case would seem to favour the 
task force. 

The one sour note in Suzuki’s re- 
port was his lack of precise informa- 
tion about U.S. carriers. Genda and 
Fuchida questioned him scarching- 
ly about Ae flat-tops, dreading the 
possibility that they might not catch 
these top-priority targets in their 
great strike. Suzuki could offer 
them no reassurance. 

Bright and early the following 
morning, Al{agi buzzed like a bee- 
hive as officers from every ship in 
the task force swarmed aboard 
to attend a special conference. 
Crowded into her wardroom were 
the commanding officers and key 
personnel of every vessel, and all 
officer members of the air attack 
forces. The atmosphere was tense 
with expectancy. 

Nagiimo opened the meeting with 
the announcement that their mis- 
sion was to attack Pearl Harbour. A 
wave of excitement spread through 
the assembly, and there was a low 
murmur of voices. This was the first 
time he had openly revealed the 
task-force objective. Although many 
present had been privy to the plot 
for months, others were completely 
in the dark; some had naively 
thought they were on training 
manoeuvres. 

Nagumo explained that it was 
still not absolutely certain whether 
the attack would be made. If nego- 
tiations between Japan and the 
United States should prove success- 
ful, the task force would be ordered 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


back; but if relations continued 
along their present hopeless course, 
there would be no alternative but to 
carry out the attack. It would be 
perilous, but it was of incalculable 
importance to Japan’s war plan, and 
each man must do his utmost to en' 
sure its success. 

After Nagumo’s chief of staff had 
sketched the general nature of the 
operation, the senior staff officer 
spoke of the precautions to be ob- 
served, and the duty of each unit 
during the dangerous voyage to 
Hawaii. Then the meeting was vir- 
tually turned over to the airmen. 
Oenda alone talked for almost an 
hour, outlining courses of action to 
cover every possible contingency. 
Murata, Fuchida and others con- 
tinued the discussions. 

During the afternoon the flight 
officers of the two projected attack 
waves examined every possible 
phase of the attack. Since they and 
their crews were all candidates for 
the black badge of death, nothing 
was left to chance. 

The Task Force Sails 

Ox November 25 the message 
Nagumo had been dreading arrived. 
Yamamoto ordered him to sail for 
Hawaii the next day. 

The first attack will Ije at dawn 
on X-day (to be given in a later 
order). 

In the event an agi cement is 
reached in the negotiations with 
the United States, the task force 
will immediately return to Japan. 


The fateful voyage began in the 
grey pre-dawn of November 26. 
Wreaked in the morning mists 
like ghost ships, the vessels of the 
great task force glided from -their 
anchorage. 

The first few days at sea were 
uneventful. The weather was ideal: 
light winds; dirty, leaden skies; 
enough fog to provide low visibility. 
Cruising speed was held to the 12- 
to. 13-knot pace of the slow tankers. 

To ensure radio silence, radio 
transmission keys were sealed or re- 
moved, and only flags and blinkers 
were used for inter-ship communi- 
cation. All vessels maintained a 
strict blackout at night, and signals 
were then sent by specially focused, 
narrow-beam blinkers. Aboard the 
tankers every effort was made to 
reduce the large volume of black 
smoke usually emitted. 

None of these security measures 
could dispel the dead weight of sus- 
pense which bore down on Nagumo 
almost from the moment of de- 
parture. On his shoulders rested a 
burden such as few naval comman- 
ders had ever borne. This multi- 
carrier task force could succeed in 
its mission only by achieving com- 
plete surprise — and Nagumo could 
never rid himself of the hauntiig 
spectre of being under constant sur- 
veillance by U.S. submarines. More- 
■wer, he worried constantly that he 
might fail to receive the message 
that diplomatic negotiations were 
successful and Tokyo decided to 
call off the attack. 



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184 








THE READER'S DIGEST 


Neither the commander’s anxiety 
nor the atmosphere of constantly 
building tension affected the devih 
may-care spirit of the pilots and air 
crews. Accustomed to the daily risks 
of a hazardous profession, and forti- 
fied by a near-fanatical loyalty to 
Emperor and nation, they relaxed 
easily at night over sal(e and such 
popular games as go and shogt, and 
by day they continued their training 
progranune with unflagging zeal. 
The to’-pedo and bomber pilots, par- 
ticularly, studied scale miniatures of 
Oahu and Ford islands until they 
knew every feature and contour of 
shoreline, and pored over models of 
U.S. warships until they could in- 
stantly identify them. 

Aboard Soryu, a petty officer, 
Noboru Kanai, reputed to be the 
best bomb-aimer in the Japanese 
Navy, excited general admiration 
by his dedication to the task at hand. 
He wore his flying jacket at all 
times, and every day, morning and 
afternoon, he boarded his plane in 
the hangar and repeatedly ran 
through his bombing procedures. 
Apparently his persistence obtained 
results, for he was later credited 
with a direct hit on Arizona during 
the actual attack. 

While the First Air Fleet, its very 
existence unsuspected, was bearing 
down relentlessly upon its prey from 
the north, what eyes werq focused 
on the Pacific were focused on the 
south. For Japanese ships and con- 
voys were already in open move- 
ment there, and the American Press 

i86 


January 

obligingly speculated on what areas 
were being threatened. ‘‘Roosevelt 
Sees Tokyo Envoys as Japanese 
Mass in Indo-China,” the New 
York Times reported on November 
28, 1941. “It May Be a Thailand 
Drive.” 

Another deceptive manoeuvre 
was the departure of Tatuta Maru 
from Yokohama on December 2. 



t.n route to Pearl Uaihour the 
Japanese fleet steamed y.joo miles across 
the Paitfic undetc led Shown here, 
ieft to rt^ht, the battleships “Hiet" and 
“Kmshtma/’ end the earner ”Shol{a](u" 

This was the third of the three 
passenger runs Japan had been per- 
mitted to send to the United States, 
and Tatuta Maru' s purported mis- 
sion of “exchanging American 
evacuees from the Orient for Japan- 
ese nationals in the United States” 



TORAJ--FOR TREACHERY 


1^4 

was plausible and widely publicized 
in American newspapers. The 
vessel was scheduled to reach the 
United States on December 14, and 
on December 3 a New York Times 
dispatch from Tokyo took this ‘*as a 
token that so far as Japan was con- 
cerned jiothing was likely to happen 
for some time.” 

The deception was obvious when 


on which Tatuta Mam began her 
deceptive voyage), and the message 
said, “Climb Mount Niitaka.” This 
was the rode phrase announcingthat 
negotiations had failed and war was 
now certain. For the first time the 
date of attack was given: Decem- 
ber 7. 

The fleet had just passed through 
the dangerous waters north of the 



.illei Det^inbir 7 TutiiU Mam re- 
versed her course and returned 10 
Japan. 

**Enjoy Your Dream of Peace!’’ 

On the task force’s seventh day 
at sea, radio instructions from Japan 
resolved at least one of Nagumo’s 
anxieties. The date was December i 
east of the international date line 
(December 2 in Japan, the same day 


U.S. base at Midway. Tension had 
run high, for in this area the possi- 
bility of being discovered by a stray 
U.S. ship or plane was considered 
great. Miraculously, the fleet had 
escaped detection, and it was with 
relief and subdued elation that all 
hands now prepared for combat. 
Meanwhile, Ambassador Nomura 
and special envoy Saburo Kurusu 
were instructed to keep peace 

187 


THE READER'S DIGEST 


conversations alive in Washington, 
and their negotiations, conducted 
in a spotlight of publicity, were tc 
engage America’s breathless atten- 
tion for the next few days. 

On December 6, every ship in the 
task force was fuelled to capacity, 
and the tankers (except for three al- 
ready sent home) were dispatched 
to a post attick rendezvous. Shortly 
after midday, all crews were sum- 
moned on deck. There the Em- 
peror’s war decree was read, 
followed by this message from 
Yamamoto: 

“The fate of the empire hangs on 
this one battle. Let every man do 
his best.” 

The ships then turned to a bearing 
of i8o degrees— due south— and be- 
gan the final high-speed run to the 
point from which the planes would 
be launched. 

The task force was now liltlc more 
than 500 miles from its target. Since 
discovery here at the very doorstep 
of the enemy fortress would certain- 
ly mean disaster, the next few hours 
were marked by agonizing strain. 
But again fortune favoured the 
bold. 

No American patrofs were en- 
countered, and the coming of dark- 
ness greatly lessened the tension. For 
the remaining hours, Japan’s on- 
rushing armada would be cloaked 
in the concealing blackness of night. 

Shortly before midnight, Tokyo 
relayed a report from Hawaii that 
Genda and Fuchida had eagerly 
awaited. No barrage balloons were 
188 


yet emplaced to hamper the pilots 
on their bombing runs (although 
such balloons had recently been 
shipped out). Nor was there any 
evidence that torpedo nets were pro- 
tecting the battleships. 

This was good news indeed, for 
the Ja[)anese had been much con- 
cerned about penetrating these 
tough steel nets. 

(>ie last message from Tokyo in 
the hours before the attack reported 
that none of the U.S. carriers was 
ill Pearl Harbour, that nine battle- 
ships were anchored there, plus 
seven cruisers and 19 destroyers. 
There was also a report on weather 
conditions around Oahu, but this 
was unnecessary: the Americans 
themsehes were obligingly broad- 
casting this information every hour. 

In Japan, all eyes of the naval 
hierarchy were now riveted on Pearl 
Harbour. 

“Hawaii, you will be caught like 
a rat in a trap,” Admiral Matome 
Ugaki, Yamamoto’s chief of staff, 
confided to his diary “Enjoy 
your dream of peace just one more 
day.” 

Then, uiiable to repress his emo- 
tion. he added, “What a tremendous 
thiii^ a IS to gamble thus the fate 
of a nation 

In the blackness of the dawn of 
December 7, Admiral Nagumo was 
glad to shift the responsibility for 
this gamble. “I have brought the 
task force successfully to the point 
of attack,” he told Genda. “From 
now on the burden is on your 



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TORA!—FOR TREACHERY 


slioulders." With these words the 
old order changed, and the new age 
of aviation took over. 

‘Tora, Tora, Tora!” 

At 5,30 the two long-range sea- 
planes first sent ahead as scouts were 
catapulted from the decks of the 
heavy cruisers Chi^uma and Tone, 
These sinister doves were to fly over 
Oahu and Lahaina Anchorage oil 
the island of Maui for a last-minute 
check on the U.S. fleet. If they were 
discovered, it would certainly alert 
the enemy. 

Hut this was a calculated risk, 
ba!anL?d against the urgent need for 
sure information. 

The pilots on all the Japanese 
carriers h ul been roused shortly be- 
fore ^ a.m. Many were too keyed up 
for sleep, in any case, having spent 
much of the night writing farewell 
letters home or making valedictory 
entries in their diaries. As soon as 
they had finished breakfast, they 
collected in the briefing nxim of 
each carrier for a final inspirational 
pep talk. 

On Hiryu, torpedo pilot Lieuten- 
ant Hcite Matsumura brought a 
welcome note of humour to the grim 
and serious atmosphere. In Japan, 
people often wear a inasut{ii — some- 
thing like a surgeon’s cotton mask 
--over the mouth and nose in winter 
to guard against cold germs. 

Matsumura had worn a masti\u 
all the way from Hitokappu Bay, 
pushing his food underneath it 
rather than take it off even at 


mealtime. He said he didn’t want to 
catch a cold at the eleventh hour and 
miss the attack. 

On the morning of the briefing, 
Matsumura appeared without his 
mask but with a prominent black 
moustache he had been sprouting 
in secret. Young officers in the 
Japanese Navy are almost invariably 
clean-shaven, and Matsumura’s new 
adornment evoked many gibes. 
“You looked better with the mask 
on,” his plane crew jeered. 

At 5.30 the six carriers, now some 
200 miles north of Oahu, turned al- 
most due east and, to compensate 
for a brisk headwind during the 
launching, increased their speed to 
24 knots. 

The sea was very loiigh, the great 
ships pitched violently, and at 
times fine spray washed high over 
the flight decks. Hut take off, 
though dilficiilt, was still possible, 
and on each carrier the combat 
pennant was raised. 

Emotion-swept deck crews read 
ied the runways to signal off the 
first attack wave of Japan's “wild 
eagles.” 

As the plane crews prepared to 
enter their aircraft, each man tied 
a huchimaf(i nnmd his leather hel- 
met. This is a long, narrow kerchief 
which the samurai of old tradition- 
ally bound about their heads before 
entering battle. On each hachimal^ 
that the airmen now wore was 
written the word Hissho — Certain 
Victory. 

The entire launching operation 



THE READER^S DIGEST 


was executed smoothly and swiftly. 
The first wave included 43 fighters, 
49 high-level bombers, 51 dive 
bombers and 40 torpedo planes. 
Within 15 minutes from the 
moment the first aircraft left its 
mother ship, all 183 planes were in 
the air. It was the fastest launching 
on record. In practice runs at 
Kyushu, under good weather condi- 
tions, the average take-off time had 
been 40 minutes. By the time the 
task force departed for Hitokappu 
Bay, the inter\al had been reduced 
to 20 minutes. Now, at Oahu, even 
this wis cut — and there were only 
two casualties. One high-level 
bomber developed engine trouble, 
and one fighter plurtgcd from the 
Hiryti into the sea and was lost. 

At Fuchida’s signal, made by tak- 
ing his own group of horizontal 
bombers in single file across A\agts 
bow, the planes assumed flight fijr- 
mation and set their course for 
Oahu and Pearl Harbour. Behind 
them would come a second wave as 
soon as the crews could raise the re- 
maining planes up to the flight deck. 
In all, there would be ^5^ aircraft 
in ihc .ittack, the largest concen- 
tration of naval air ^ower in the 
history of warfare up to that time. 

The rising sun of Imperial Japan 
had never vaulted so high into the 
heavens, and all were aware of it. 
On deck the cheering crews, some 
men with tears running down their 
faces, continued to wave their caps 
in farewell until the speeding planes 
shrank to pinpoints. On the bridge, 
792 


Gcnda, too, felt a tremendous surge 
of pride. With a hundred hoarse 
"Banzais*' still echoing in his ears, 
he went to Al^agi's control room to 
await Fuchida’s initial message, 
which would be sent when, he 
reached the target. 

Spread across the Pacific, the com- 
manders of the wSccond, Third, 
Fourth and Fifth Japanese Fleets 
also awaited this message, for it 
would >scnd them crashing into 
battle on a dozen fronts. And in the 
distant homeland Yamamoto wait- 
ed, too, while in Tokyo key mem- 
bers of the Naval General Sta/T had 
gathered in gnm apprehension. 

The earliest information came 
when one of the two scout planes 
reported its findings to the attackers. 
The U.S. ships were still in Pearl 
Harbour, and there was no evidence 
of an alert. 

At exactly 7.49 the air waves 
crackled with Fuchida’s electric 
message, sent from Hiiwaiian skies. 
"7V;-7V;-7V/" 

It was the first svllable of the Japa- 
nese word for “Charge,” and it 
meant that the first wave was now 
attacking. But it told nothing about 
the circumstances of that attack. • 

A few minutes later, there was 
another message. To his anxious su- 
periors on Al{agi and in Tokyo, l^i- 
chida radioed a reassuring, *‘Tora, 
Tora, Tora!'" (Tiger, Tiger, Tigcii*) 

It was the pre-arranged code w»)rd 
for conveying the news th4it com- 
plete surprise had lx*cn achieved. 

(To he concluded next month) 



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Ways of Italian Communian 
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WilSam Gargan’s Finest Role 
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AD Quiet at Link Rod . 

The Erhard Era Begms in Adenauer’s Gemuny 
Ikunour in Umfimn 
How We Remember, Why We Forget 
Peopk-to-Peopk: A Plan for Friendship 


ai 


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Theedm BematiH 
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C.W.E. Jordan 
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Chuago Tribune 
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• Jock Demon Scott 
Dfoma in Real Life 
This Week Att^assSue 
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The andKOiic imde story of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbour 




Jt Ptys to Inovase YOur Word Power, 7 

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Ovor no aaiiMon tootoo m ts UHtsuswot naMswiit nsMb asontti 

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H\ W'lij RH) Funk 

Crnlsi 111 MiNC.wAY avdidctl usinj; “cxpcuMvc” uords. “There are older, better 
words,** he said. In this list of time-tested one-syllable words, tick the word 
or phrase you believe is nearest in meaning to the key word. Answers arc on 
page 12 . 


(1) lurk — A: to roll to one side. B: lie 
hidden. C: attiact. D: quiet. 

(2) plumb— A: to fall. B: weigh. C: hit. 
D : get to the bottom of. 

(3) throe — A ; extreme pain. B : prostration. 
C: gripe. D: jaw. 

(4) vaunt — A: to jump. B: boast of. C: 
conquer. D: envy. 

(5) glut— A: to glue together. B: be las- 
civious. C: disembowel. D: fill to excess. 

(6) goad — A: to flog. B: build. C: incite 
or spur. D: dig into. 

(7) brink — A: very edge. B: top. C: sharp 
point. D : height. 

(8) glib — A: swift. B: smooth-tongued. 
C: gay. D: silent. 

(9) foist— A: to force. B: lift. Ci^alm off, 
D: strengthen. 

(10) prate — A ; to argue. B : brag. C : parade 
up and down. D : talk foolishly. 


(11) moot — A: gloomy. B: ugly. C: de- 
batable. D: spiridess. 

(12) bruit — A : to boil. B: spread a rumour. 
C: ponder. D: injure. 

(13) smug — A; unpleasant. B: stubborn. 
C: self-satisfied. D: cosy. 

(14) flounce — A: to flirt. B: swagger. 
C: dance. D: fling oneself about im- 
patiently. 

(15) font — A; source. B: wisdom. C: 
folly. D: pulpit. ^ 

(16) foil — A: to grow angry. B: hinder or 
prevent. C: deceive. D: quarrel bitterly. 

(17) quell — A ; to humiliate. B : act quickly. 
C: suppress by force. D: hesitate. 

(18) curt— A: dignified. B: clever. C: 
prompt. D: abrupt. 

(19) loath — A : reluctant. B : lazy. C . proud. 
D: slow. 

(20) plight — A: quick retreat. B: test. C. 
distressed condition. D: fear. 

{Nw tun topugli la) 




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YOUR WORD POWER 

Answers to the quiz on page ‘j 


(1) lurk — B; To he hidden, as m ambush; 
Stay in a place secretly or furtively; as, 
to lurk m dark alleys. Middle English 
lurken. 

(2) plumb — D: To ascertain depth with a 
plumb line. Hence, to get to the bottom 
of; fathom* as, to plumb a mystery. 
Latin plumbum^ “lead.’* 

(3) throe — A: Extreme pain; anguish; 
agony; as, a nation in the throes of eco- 
nomic rum. Old English tbria^ “pang, 
threat *’ 

(4) vaunt — To boast of; brag of; as, 
to vaunt one's success in public. Latin 
vanus^ “empty.” 

(5) glut— D: To fill to excess; satiate; 
oversupply ; as, to glut the market. Latin 
glutire^ “to swallow.” 

(6) goad — C To incite or spur; prod; 
puck with a sharp stick, as, to goad 
into action. Old English “spear, 
point, arrow.” 

(7) brink — A : The very edge, as of a steep 
place ; verge ; as, on the of failure. 
Middle English brmkr. 

(8) glib — D. Sinooth-tbngucd, speaking 
flippantly, often wnth intent to deceive, 
as, a glib auctioneer. Low German glib- 
beng, “slippery.” 

(9) foist — C: To palm off; pass off (some- 
thing spurious) as genuine; as, to foist a 
worthless stock on an investor. Dutch 
vuisten, “to take in one's hand” (/ ^ , to 
palm, as dice), from vuist, -“fist.” 

(10) prate — D: To talk foolishly and at 
length; chatter; babble; prattle, as, to 
prate about family affairs. Middle English 
praten. 


(11) moot — C: Debatable; disputable; as, 
a moot question. In Anglo-Saxon days a 
town ^'moot” was a town meeting for 
purposes of debate and discussion. 


(12) bruit — B: To spread or publish a 
rumour; as, to bruit a scandal abroad. 
French brmre, “to roar.” 


(13) smug — C: Self-satisfied; complacent; 
as, a smug expression. Low German 
smuk, “neat, trim.” 


(14) flounce — D: To fling oneself about 
impatiently or petulantly; as, to flounce out 
of the room. Akin to Norwegian 
flunsa^ “to hurry.” 


(15) font — A • Source; as, a font of wisdom. 
Latin fons^ “fountain, spring.” 


(16) foil — B: To hinder or prevent; frus- 
trate; baffle; as, to fotl the enemy’s plans. 
Old French fouler^ “to trample.” 


07) quell— C: To suppress by force; as, 
to quell a rebellion. Old English cn'ellan, 
“to kill.” 


(18) curt — D: Abrupt; brusque; short and 
sharp in manner; as, a curt answer. Latin 
curtus, “shortened.” 


(19) loath — A: Reluctant; averse; strongly 
disinclined, as, loath to leave home. Old 
English lath, “hateful.” 


(20) plight— C: Distressed conditmn; 
predicament; as, the plight of the 
unemployed. Middle English pht. 


Vocabulary Ratings 


20 — 19 correct excellent 

18 — 16 correct good 

15 — 13 correct fair 




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VOLUME 84 


Reader's Digest 


M>BKIHKY 196^ 




A Portrait of 
President 
Lyndon Johnson 

An intimate study of the proud, complex, 
hard-driving President of the United States -by 
one of TJ dshington s most perceptive 
.politwid commentators 

ONc BEFORE John Kennedy for- 
mally announced his presi- 
dential candidacy, he sat 
over a luncheon steak one day and 
dispassionately discussed his rivals 
for the office. 

“I know all the other candidates 
pretty well,” he said, “and I frankly 
think Vm as able to handle the 
Presidency as any of them, or abler 
—all except Lyndon, and he hasn’t 
got a chance.” 

John Kennedy was a shrewd 

^3 


By SihWARi- Aisoi* 

judge of men, afid the remark sug- 
gests how highly fie rated the abili- 
ties of the mtin who has now 
succeeded him in the Presidency. 
Lyndon Baines Johnson is *in extra- 
ordinarily complicated and remark- 
ably fascinating human being. He is 
proud, excessively vain and oddly 
humble. He is as tough as a whole 
barrel of nails, yet sentimental to 
the [X)int of cornincss. He is long- 
headed, shrewd — even foxy — and 
yet in some respects surprisingly 



THE READER^S DIGEST 


Miiivc. He is .1 hardened, time- 
battered politician who is still in 
part a boy. 

' To see the real Johnson, it is 
necessary to leapfrog back over his 
three unhappy years in the Vice- 
Presidency — unhappy because the 
office is powerless — to the time 
when, as majority leader of the 
Senate, Lyndon Johnson was the 
second most powerful * man in 
America. (To say that Johnson loves 
power IS no affront to the man. 
Kennedy loved power, too. At that 
same lunch at which he paid his 
casual compliment to his successor, 
Kennedv remarked that he wanted 
to be President “because that’s 
where the real power is.’') 

As soon as Johnson won that 
Senate post in 1^55, he reached out 
with a sure instinct for the chief 
levers of part) power: the Policy 
(Committee, the Steering (Commit- 
tee, the Democratic (Campaign 
(Committee and the party secretariat. 
He was ch.iirman of the first two, 
and thus controlled both broad 
pohcN decisions and the vital com- 
mittee .:'*Mg:uiiv He had a 
maiority of johnson men on the 
Democratic (Campaign (Committee, 
and thus controlled campaign lar- 
gess. And the whole party secre- 
tariat was devoutly loyal to 
Lyndon Johnson and to nobody 
else. 

The executive branch is, of 
course, wholly different from the 
legislative branch, and it is even 
more difficult to control than the 


Fchrnury 

Senate, But anyone who saw Lyn- 
don Johnson ojxrrating as majority 
leader will be dead ccrt*iin of one 
thing: johnson will dominate abso- 
lutely his branch of the government. 
He will be master in his own house, 
for good or ill. 

This prediction leaves un- 
answered other vital questions. For 
example, where does Johnson really 
stand in the political spectrum be- 
tween left and right? And, what 
kind of human being is this man 
who now holds history in the hol- 
low of his hand? 

Johnson went to (Congrc.ss in 1937 
as that rare bird in Texas, .in all-out 
supporter of the New Deal. As. a 
result, he w.is a special favourite of 
Pre.sident Franklin Roosevelt. (“He 
was like a d.iddv to me,” Johnson 
says.) Since those New Dc.il d.iy.s, 
most students of the Johnson career 
believe, johnson h.is moved rather 
steadily to the right. In a long inter- 
view I once h.id with him, Johnson 
explained his position in l\pical 
Johnsonese: “()nc thing you learn 
by experience is that politics is about 
people— the greatest g(K)d for the 
greatest number. I’ve always 
thought I had a soci.il conscience. J 
know one thing— you don’t want to 
sit on your hands, you have to keep 
moving forward. If something has 
to be done, the Republicans always 
have reasons why you can’t do it 
now.” 

This IS hardly a detailed blueprint 
of Johnson’s political ideology; but 
It does sum up certain Johnsonian 



1^64 A PORTRAIT OF PRESIDENT LYNDON jOHNSON 


attitudes. As his dig at the Repub- 
licans suggests, Johnson is both .1 
dedicated Democrat and an activist, 
a man who believes in a strong 
federal government to keep the 
country “moving forward.*’ By and 
large, his “social conscience’’ kept 
him voting along liberal Demo- 
cratic lines in his years on Capitol 
Hill. 

But Johnson is also a Southerner. 
Indeed, the geographical “accident" 
of his birth is in some ways the most 
important political fact about him. 
The chances are high that it would 
have prevented him from ever be- 
coming President, had it not been 
for another accident — the accident 
of the assassin’s bullet. Now that he 
IS President, there is a deeply im- 
portant question to ask about him: 
How will he, a Southerner, deal 
with the continuing crisis caused by 
the Negro revolt.? 

To guess at the answer to that 
question, it is necessary first to 
understand the kind of JJoutherner 
Johnson is. To that end, it is reveal- 
ing to see him on his native heath, 
at the LBJ Ranch outside Johnson 
(aty, in South Central Texas. 
Located in rocky, rolling, scmi-arid 
country, the ranch house is a ram- 
bling, mostly wooden, building, a 
“Western" ranch house of the kind 
that rich cattlemen built for them- 
selves around the turn of the cen- 
ttirv. The fact is that Johnson City, 
which was founded by Lyndon 
Johnson’s grandfather, is not really 
a southern town at all. It is really 



part of the W'est, the West ot cow- 
boys and cattle. There has never 
been any considerable number of 
Negroes there, and the southern 
attitude on the racial issue is not 
bred in Johnson’s bones. 

As Vice-President, Johnson took 
a consistently pro-civil-rights posi- 
tion. This was no doubt partly for 
political reasons. Johnson intended 
to make a hard try for the nomina- 
tion in 1968, and he was quite aware 
that the liberal intellectuals and the 
pro-civil-rights groups generally 
exercise great power at Democratic 
conventions. And they would cer- 
tainly try to veto any Southerner 
with southern views on’ the racial 
issue. But it IS always a mistake to 
be too cynical about the motiv.itions 
of a politician, especially if that poli- 
tician is, as • Johnson is today, a 
President who wants desperately to 
go down in history as a great 
President. 

Johnson’s favourite ejuotation is 
from Isaiah: “Come now, let us 


25 


THE READER'S DIGEST 


reason together”; ^nd bridging 
seemingly unbridgeable chasms 
between seemingly irreconcilable 
viewpoints was his sfieciality as 
majority leader. Johnson is not go- 
ing to “solve” the racial problem, 
because there is no “solution” to the 
problem. But he has a better oppor- 
tunity to contain the racial crisis, to 
Hnd for the nation a way of living 
with the insoluble, than his brilliant 
predecessor' had. 

In other respects, J()hns(in will no 
doubt simply keep to the Kennedy 
line in the months that remain be- 
fore the election. The real difference 
between Johnson’s WashingUiii and 
Kennedy’s Washington is likely to 
be more one of style than of ideo- 
logy. Kennedy’s Washington had 
an elegance and an mtellectual 
quality Johnson’s Washington will 
lack. But Johnson’s Washington is 
likely to have other c|ualities. 

Again, the LHJ Ranch is the ke\ 
to an understanding of the very 
s|)eci d Johnson style. The Johnson 
style derives in part from the forts, 
.ind in part from the swimming 
p(K.l. 

Lyndon Johnson loves to show the 
forts to visitors. There are two of 
them, small, shtiped like beehives, 
with a double thickness of stone, 
and thin slits hir rifle fire. They 
were built about loo years ago by 
Stimucl Ealy Johnson, the Presi- 
dent’s grandfather, to protect the 
settlers of Johnson CMy from 
Red Indian raids. Johnson likes to 
tell how his grandmother saved her 
j6 


February 

life during an Indian raid by hiding 
in a flour barrel. 

The closeness of this frontier 
background explains a lot about 
Lyndon Johnson. He is an elegant 
dresser, goes in for long, full, single- 
breasted jackets. But beneath this 
cleg.int exterior he can be very 
rough and rude when provoked. 
The real mark of the frontiersman 
in him is the restless hopefulness of 
the man, the undefeated quality. 

The swimming pool is also 
part of the Johnson style. It 
IS large, luxurious and perma- 
nently heated, so that Johnson and 
the endless stream of visitors to the 
ranch can take a dip even in winter. 
It is equipped with numerous tele- 
phone outlets, so that Johnson, a 
compulsive user of the telephone, 
can make calls even when im- 
mersed. Piped-in music scxilhes the 
nerves of the bathers, who usually 
include two or three decorative 
young ladies. Behind the pool is a 
garage with space for ii vehicles. 

The [Kjol, in short, is modern 
Texas, oil Tex.is, millionaire Texas. 
This Texas society in which John- 
son has lived and breathed and had 
his being is a vigorous, hard-driving 
society, in which success is the 
purpose of life, and money is its 
measure. I’his environment is" as 
much a part of Johnson as the 
frontier. Johnson may well offend 
his fellow Texans by his stand on 
civil rights. He is unlikely to offend 
them, however, by his pisition on 
the oil-deplction allowance. 



A PORTRAIT OF PRESIDENT LYNDON lOHNSON 


In fact, the people Johnson is 
most likely to offend are the liberal 
intellectuals; they have never taken 
to him, even though he has more 
often than not supported the liberal 
line. The basic reason for their dis- 
like is, again, a matter of style. 
Johnson is an intelligent man, but 
unlike President Kennedy he is in 
no sense an intellectual. The differ- 
ence between Kennedy’s intellectual 
background and Johnson’s is the 
difference between Harvard and 
Southwest Texas State Teachers 
College, which is Johnson’s Alma 
Mater. Academic and intellectual 
types usually feel uncomfortable 
with Johnson, and he with them. 

In terms of style, in fact, Lyndon 
Johnson has more in common with 
another non-intellectual President, 
Harry Truman, than with his im- 
mediate predecessor. Like Truman, 
Johnson has a homely turn of 
phrase, and a tendency to see com- 
plex matters in simple, basic, 
human terms. Here, for example, is 
Johnson on the subject of foreign 
policy : 

“The real danger is that the other 
side is going to underestimate us — 
It’s happened before. The danger is 
they’ll think we’re fat and 50 and 
fighting among ourselves about free 
enterprise and st'cialnsm and all that. 
We might mislead them, so that 
they’ll think these Americans are 
just the country-club crowd. That’s 
a mistake our enemies have made 
before. 

“I remember at school in Johnson 


City, there was a school bully, like 
there is in every school. There was 
one boy he used to pick on all the 
time; he’d follow him home from 
school, slapping and kicking him, 
sometimes right up to his front 
porch. 

“This boy’s mother had told him 
it was a bad thing to fight, and 
we all thought he was a sort of 
mother’s boy. But one day he de- 
cided he’d had enough. *He turned 
on the bully, and he got him down, 
and he began to hit his head on the 
concrete till his brains almost spilt 
out. That bully was very different 
after that. But the chances are he’d 
never have bullied this quiet boy in 
the first place if he’d known what 
was going to happen.” 

As President, Lyndon Johnson 
certainly will not permit the United 
States to be bullied. Ever since his 
political “daddy,” Franklin Roose- 
velt, found a place for him on the 
Naval Affairs Committee as a new 
Congressman in 1937, defence has 
been a Johnson .speciality, and he 
has consistently favoured a strong 
defence. And although one of the 
most effective arguments against 
his presidential candidacy in i960 
was that he was essentially a “paro- 
chial politician,” in Walter Lipp 
mann’s phrase, he has been taking a 
sort of foreign-policy cram course in 
the last three years. He has made 
several trips abroad, and as a mem- 
ber of the National Security Council 
he participated in all the major 
foreign-policy decisions, including 

27 



THE READER'S DIGEST February 


the 1962 decision to face down 
Khrushchev in Cuba. 

It will be interesting to see the 
personal style of Lyndon Johnson, 
as President, applied to foreign 
policy. A meeting between Presi- 
dent Johnson and Chairman Khru- 
shchev, for example, would be a 
peculiarly fascinating occasion, par- 
ticularly if Johnson administered 
what was known in his Senate days 
as “Lyndon’s Treatment A.” 

Treatment A was the majority 
leader’s secret weapon for use 
against recalcitrant Senators. He 
also used it, on occasion, on re- 
porters, including this one. I had 
written a couple of sentences critical 
of Johnson in a newspaper article; I 
later described what happened in 
his office : 

“The majority leader was, it 


seemed, in a relaxed, friendly, re- 
miniscent mood. But by gradual 
stages this gave way te something 
rather like a human hurricane. 
Johnson strode about his office, 
talking without pause, occasionally 
leaning over, his nose almost touch- 
ing the reporter’s, to shake the re- 
porter’s shoulder or grab his knee. 
Secretaries were rung for. Memo- 
randa appeared and then more 
memoranda, as well as letters, news- 
paper articles and unidentifiable 
scraps of paper, which were prof- 
fered in quick succession and then 
snatched away. Appeals were made, 
to the Almighty, to the shades of the 
departed great, to the reporter’s 
finer instincts and better nature, 
while the reporter, unable to get a 
word in edgeways, sat collapsed 
upon a leather sofa, eyes glazed, 


A t the height of his power as majority 
L leader of the U S Senate, Lyndon Johnson 
talked at length with Stewart Alsop, Washing- 
ton editor ot The Saturday Evening Post and 
author of the adjoining article The following 
extracts from that inter\icw provide a remark- 
able insight into the thinking of the 36th 
President of the United States 
Q— Some say you’re a mixture of your 
mother’s family, mostly teachers and mini- 
sters, and your father’s family, frontiersmen, 
phticians and men of action Is that accurate ' 
LBJ— Well, there’s some of that But my 
daddy was a teacher 
Q— What was he like^ 

LBJ — He looked like me, only he was 
better looking He was a warm man, he loved 
jxiople, while my motlier was sort of alwif 


Mother’s people were Baptists, mostly, 
teachers and preachers She took after them 
She was a writer, she wrote a lot for the 
papers, and I suppose 1 took after her- I was 
editor of the college paper Mother taught 
speech, and so did 1 
Q— Weren’t you a debater'* 

LBJ — ^Yes, sir, we won 65 or 66 debates, 
only lost the last one. We won the city and, 
the county championship, but we lost the 
state [championship], by a vote of the judges 
of 3-2 I was so disappointed 1 went right into 
the bathroom and was sick 
Q--Your mother has written that there* 
was a time after you graduated from high 
school, a time of indecision I think she calls 
It, when she was unhappy about you 
LBJ— Yes, I went out to California 111 11*2.; 




ig 64 A PORTRAIT OF PRESIDENT LYNDON JOHNSON 


mouth half open. Treatment A 
ended a full two hours later, when 
the majority leader, a friendly arm 
around the shoulder of the dazed 
journalist, ushered him into the 
outer office.” 

As Treatment A demonstrates, 
the new President is an extra- 
ordinary man, in the literal meaning 
of that word. His drive is extra- 
ordinary. Every politician who gets 
to the top of the political heap has 
great dynamism, but at least in the 
past there was something almost 
phrenetic about Johnson’s drive to 
power. (“I’m always pressed for 
time,” he has said. “An hour late 
and a dollar short, that’s the way 
I’ve been all my life.”) Ever since 
boyhood he has been driven by a 
need to succeed. “My daddy used 
to wake me up at dawn,” he has 


said, “and shake my leg and say, 
‘Lyndon, every boy in town’s got an 
hour’s head start on you.’ ” 

Johnson has been trying tp catch 
up ever since. The pressure to catch 
up certainly helped cause the mas- 
sive heart attack— “as bad as you 
can have and live,” by his own 
account— which he suffered in 1955. 
Ever since the heart attack, from 
which he has staged a complete re- 
covery, he has been trying to slow 
down. The effort is sometimes 
visible : Johnson will suddenly halt 
the flfxxl of his talk, lie back in 
his chair, gaze contemplatively at 
the ceiling and scratch his stomach. 
But these moments of conscious 
relaxation rarely last long, and he 
IS soon striding restlessly about 
again, the floodgates of his 
conversation opened wide. 


and hved sort of from hand to mouth, wash- 
ing cars, doing odd jobs Then 1 came back 
home, and for a while 1 worked on the road 
gang. But my mother was always after me 
to get an education, and finally 1 said I would 
go to college I had to do six weeks’ high- 
school work to get ready for the college en- 
trance exam — ^and I made all A’s in the end, 
except for plane geometry. Then I went 
through college in less than three years In 
college I never let daylight catch me in bed I 
had about five different jobs, janitoring, work- 
ing for the president, selling silk sodcs, and 
so on, and when I graduated I had 200 dollars 
m the bank. 

. Q — ^What does your extraordinary drive 
come from ? 

LBJ— Well, I suppose pu’d call it pride. 


Some people have it in an unusual degree For 
me there has been irfore satisfaction in politics 
than in anything els^. I’ve always wished 
Lady Bird and I had a son; if we had a boy, 
I’d want him to be a politician, or a teacher 
or a preacher Or maybe a writer or a pub 
hsher. But someone who deals with other 
people, who has an influence on the course of 
events I get more satisfaction out of doing 
things for people than anything else 

Q —The libcpals say you’re too conservative, 
and the conservatives say you’re too liberal. 
How would you define your political posi 
tion? 

LBJ — ^Wcll, I like to think I’m a liberal 
without being a radical. To put it another 
way, 1 always want to keep moving — but not 
with both feet off the ground at the same time 

29 




THE READER’S DIGEST 


There are other Ways in which 
Johnson is extraordinary. He is ex- 
traordinarily proud. Sometimes his 
pride can degenerate into mere 
vanity, as evidenced by the endless 
proliferation of his initials, which 
are attached to his charming wife. 
Lady Bird Johnson, his two daugh- 
ters (Lynda Bird, 19 and Lucy 
Baines, 16) and his ranch. But in its 
essence Lyndon Johnson’s pride is 
admirable, a pride in achievement, 
1 love of excellence. 

Johnson is also an extraordinarily 
likeable man. Senator Earle 
Clements of Kentucky was not 
greatly exaggerating when, after 
Johnson’s heart attack, he paid this 
tribute to him: “I doubt if there is 
a member of the Senate, on either 
side of the aisle, who does not look 
on Johnson as a friend.” 

Finally, as John Kennedy’s casual 


remark suggests, Lyndon Johnson is 
a man of extraordinary ability. 
When he was majority leader, there 
was something magical about his 
performance; no one was ever quite 
able to explain how he worked his 
legislative miracles. A devoutly 
loyal staff and a good intelligence 
system were part of the answer — 
and in the White House Johnson 
will certainly continue to insist on 
both. A certain ruthlessness was 
another part of the answer. But 
there was something else as well 
— an X quality, something in- 
definable. 

“I don’t quite know why it is,” 
an old friend of Johnson has said, 
“but whatever Lyndon really wants, 
he gets in the end.” 

And getting what he wants is 
a useful quality for a President of 
the United States to have. 


Condensed from The Saturday Evening Post 



Poetic Licence 

^HtN Charles Babbage, the English mathematician, read Tennyson’s 

E ocm “The Vision of Sin,” he wrote to the poet : “In your otherwise 
eautiful poem there is a verse which reads, 'Every moment dies a man, 
Every moment one is born.’ It must be manifest that, were this true, the 
population of the world would be at a standstill. In truth the rate of birth 
is slightly in excess of that of death. I would suggest that in your next 
edition of the poem it should read, 'Every moment dies a man, Every 
moment one and one-sixteenth is born.* 

“Strictly speaking this is not correct. The actual figure is a decimal so 
long that I cannot get it in the line, but I believe one and one-sixteentfa 
will be sufficiently accurate for poetry. ” 

— jnmes Newman, The World of Mathematics (Allen & Unwin, Lon Jon) 



LIVING 

CAMOUFLAGE 

Nature’s 

Call to the Colours 

By Donald and Louise Peattie 


l4k»0/NAtlCt PAI MKH 



* In a watery green abode, with a lily pad 
Jor a roof, lurks the frog 


M ost of the colour that floods 
the v’orld seems to man to 
have no purpose at all. It 
IS sheer, delightful superabundance 
of life’s energy. But for countless 
.inimals colour is a master weapon 
in the great game of survival. The 
c.imouflage of nature is better than 
any that man has ever devised, and 
when animals perfectly m.itch their 
backgrounds, they are both safe and 
alert to attack their own prey. Mr. 
Toad looks like a lump of the earth 
he squats on. Agile Mr. Frog is as 
green on top as the scum of the 
pond where he floats, but under- 
neath he is pale as light seen 
through water. The polar bear and 

Condensed from National Wildlife 


on/AriiuiMiji BDCJETr, 



The willou' ptarmigan. Ai the inowi melt, 
the bird will slowly change its while 
Jealhers to brown 


snowy owl are, white us the Arctic 
wastes. Brilliant tropical Rsh hide 
amid the bnghf-colourcd coral of 
the reef. 

The plover’s pebble-dash eggs are 
laid just above the highest wave 
mark on the sea-shore, and blend 
with the shingle. So does the dap- 
pled fawn, lying motionless, blend 
with the forest floor. And the undei- 
wing moths look so like the bark 
of the trees where they alight that 
they are as good as invisible. But 

3 ^ 


give one a poke, and it flies off dis- 
playing the delicate pink underside 
of its wings. 

Some creatures camouflage them- 
selves with material from their sur- 
roundings. One larva uses lichen, 
another dead ants. Masking crabs 
have horny brisdes on which they 
hang disguises of algae or sponge. 
The' sponge crab cuts out a colourful > 
sponge mask, just the right size to 
lit, and holds it in place over its hack 
with a special pair of legs. As for 
the squid, it can eject a small cloud 
of ink, roughly the shape and size 
of itself; then it slips away while 
the enemy is distracted by the ink 
cloud. 

Quaint and curious are some of 
the efforts to avoid detection. Cer- 
tain tropical mantises are coloured 
like the flowers of their favourite 
tree. In South America is found the 
glass-winged butterfly, so trans- 
parent you can see through its wings 
—and so perhaps not se; it at all. 
And the dead-leaf butterfly resem- 
bles a bit of old foliage not only in« 
colour but in delicate venation and 
ragged outline. Even its slow, swirl- 
ing flight is like that of a falling leaf. 

The stick ins&t looks exactly 
like a twig not only in tolour 
and shape but even in the angle 
at which it perches on the branch. 
Touch it, and it will continue to 
play possum, but if too much an- 
noyed it will put out the legs it has 
' held close to its body and stalk away 
with an air of offended dignity ^t 
having had its disguise penetrated. 




Danger unseen — among the fallen leaves^ an almost perfectly camouflaged 
ropperhead snake! 


The ability to behave so that the resembling the flowers of the tree 
colour camouflage is nearly perfect on which they rest. 

IS characteristic of the American The bright plumage of the male 
bittern. This slim bird of stripy bird may well appeal to his lady, 

plumage will stand perfectly still But it also serves to attract attention 

among reeds with its bill held almost away from the female’s quieter 

straight up, the better to merge with garb, thus keeping her the safer. A 

its background. male bird mpy also display some 

A moth marked like a dead leaf brilliant coloration to frighten, a 

will orient its position so that its rival, as in the case of the Chinese 
markings coincide with those of the ring-necked pheasant. On the side' 
leaf on which it settles. Certain of his neck the male carries startling 

tropical insects gather together, red pouches, which he can puff out 

heads all one way, to fo»*m a pattern in an encounter with another male. 

raoToauPd: i^habd lu bub iu/moiibikbtbb d d 



Nature matched the white-tailed fawn to the dappled 
tones of the autumn forest 


This immediately reduces a chal- 
lenger’s contidcnce; he may even 
skulk away with<5ut a fight. If, how- 
ever, you diminish the apparent size 
of the victorious bird’s pouches with 
black water colour, the challenger 
advances with such confidence that 
the champion will retreat. 

When we think of an animal 
quick-change artist, ■ we usually 
think of the chameleon, which by 
doing a sort of slow burn can match 
a new background. But far more 
astonishing colour changes are 

34 


found among fish, frogs, squid, 
crabs and shrimp. A young prawn 
can change colour completely some- 
times ill a few minutes, and has a 
wonderful repertoire of tints : green 
when in seaweed; violet, brown, red 
or blue-green as it moves among 
coloured algae; transparent blue at 
night. A flounder has both, eyes on 
one side of its head, but even lying 
flat lookingup it can note changes on 
the sea floor and modify its colours 
accordingly. Placed above squares 
of patterned linoleum, it will adjust 


raoTOOBATB: LM>AU> iiU EDB lOtmonMKn 






UVlNG CAMOUFLAGE— NATURE'S CALL TO THE COLOURS 


itself to match, all the while waiting 

for dinner to pass by. 

Another meaning of colour is that 
shown in the fantastic relationship 
between some birds and bees and 
their favourite flowers. The lip-like 
lowest petal of certain orchids bears 
a yellow marking strikingly like a 
female wasp. The male wasp alights 
there eagerly, and by the time he 
has discovered the deception two 
tiny pellets of pollen, connected by 
a spring-like band, have been 
clamped on the side of his head by 
the plant. When next he visits such 
a flower the pellets are hooked off 
by the orchid, which thus achieves 
pollination. 

Many creatures are colour-blind, 
and sec the world in greys and 
blacks and whites. But even a 
colour-blind enemy can be deceived 
by the kind of protective colora- 
tion called disruptive. This is the 


marking or mottling that breaks up 
an otherwise identi&ble outline. 

A snake motionless in the grass is 
often missed because of the pattern 
on its back. Spotted giraffes and 
striped zebras are hard for the 
hunter to see, even at fairly close 
range, in their native veld. A par- 
tridge or quail on the floor of the 
woods may not be seen because of 
its mottled feathers. 

As there is no outline harder to 
conceal than a circle, even a wary 
eye can give its owner away. But the 
racoon wears markings like a black 
mask that divert attention from his 
pupils, and many a bird has a black 
or white streak through the eye, or 
a patch round it, to draw attention 
from that bright jet gaze. 

These devices, and thousands like 
them, arc an irreplaceable part of 
nature’s grand strategy for the 
game of life. 


Visible at second glance is a quaily alert but quiet on her nest 


Valencia’s 
Tribunal 
of Waters 



By Roherp Littell 


After a thousand changing 
years, this simple Spanish 
court continues to dispense 
homespun justice that has 
stood the test of time 


H andless, mutilated, with eyes 
blinded by six centuries of 
time and weather, the Twelve 
Apostles look down from their 
Gothic niches in the north portal of 
Valencia’s cathedral. Below them, 
in harsh contrast, trams jangle, 
lorries grind, tourists’ cameras click 
and whir. 

For it is Thursday, and here in 
Valencia, Spain’s third largest city, 
on the, stroke of noon every Thurs- 
day, there is renewed an institution 
more ancient than the stone robes 
of the Apostles, yet in spirit more 
modern than the clang and clash of 
twentieth-century machinery. It is 
the open-air “Tribunal of Waters,” 
the oldest court of justice in Europe, 
a court of equals where the farmers 
of Valencia’s vast irrigated plain 
have dispensed their own impartial 
justice to one another, without 
records, clerks, briefs or dockets, 
without interference from kings or 
governors, for over i,ooo years. 

Behind a portable iron-grillc rail- 
ing stands a half-circle of black 
armchairs and, as 12 strikes, eight 
bareheaded farmers, each wearing 
the traditional black smock of the 
Valcncian labrador, solemnly take 
their scats. 

“The court is in session,” declares 
its president, and the constable steps 
forward, holding the symbol of the 
court, a halberd-like staff tipped 
with a menacing brass hook. One 
by one he calls out the liquid names 
of the eight canals which spread the 

Condensed from Die Weltwoche, Zilrteh 



waters of the capricious river Turia 
over the Valcncian plain— “Fabara, 
Mislata, Rascaha, Robella . . 

What farmer along one of these 
life-giving waterways stands ac- 
cused of misusing it today? Two 
men uncover their heads and step 
forward, “I accuse Manuel Fulano 
here, . . one of them, a canal 
guard, begins. The curious crowd 
leans over the iron railings to catch 
his words, but they are lost in the 
rumble of a huge lorry piled high 
with crates of oranges. 

Upon the sunbathed, fertile farm- 
land that surrounds Valencia, rain 
f.ills, on the average, only one day 
out of seven. Twenty-five thousand 
acres of onion fields and rice pad- 
dies, of tomatoes and artichokes, of 
market gardens and orange groves, 
would wither and die widiout con- 
stant transfusions from the Tuna. 

Like most rivers in southern 
Spain, the mountain-born Turia is 
either torrent or trickle, lean goat or 
raging bull. Over the centuries, the 
Tuna has been tamed, domesti- 
cated, harnessed; its waters have 
been diverted into a complex net- 
work of can.ils which dwindle down 
to hundreds of miles of rivulets in 
long, narrow, concrete troughs. 
Every so often there Is a gate which 
can be opened to let the water out 
on to a thirsty plot of land. Thanks 
to the water,, three or four crops a 
year can be raised, making it pos- 
sible for a whole family to live off an 
acre or even less. But only if the 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


water is fairly and honesdy divided; 
only if 15,000 farmers abide by the 
rules they began making for them- 
selves ten centuries ago. 

When at last the traffic lets him be 
heard, the guard of the irrigation 
canal near Campanar tells the 
Tribunal that Manuel Fulano rose 
before dawn, broke the lock on the 
water gate with an axe and irrigated 
his land * for two illicit hours. 
Fulano’s explanation is that he was 
trying to make up for the water he 
believes he should have had the 
week before. After a few muttered 
consultations, the Tribunal of his 
peers finds him guilty, and orders 
him to pay costs and penalties. 

From this verdict there is no 
appeal; no other court in Spain will 
listen to Fulano. And he will pay 
the fine and the damages promptly, 
because if he does not, water will 
be denied his land. Fulano may 
grumble, but at heart he is proud of 
his Tribunal, as are the many hun- 
dreds of offenders who have stood, 
cap or beret in hand, under the 
stone-robed Aposdes. 

Juan N. is up for cutting trees 
along the canal’s right of way; 
Carlos E. has washed vegetables in 
the communal watercourse; Luis O. 
has allowed his cattle to walk along 
the soft earthen dikes. All are 
penalized, yet none of them would 
exchange his Tribunal, swift, sim- 
ple, shorn of everything but justice 
itself, for the frustrations and delays 
of an ordinary legal court. 

ss 


February 

In Valencia’s irrigated plain, a 
plot of land aild its supply of water 
are inseparable. When a man buys 
land, he buys also the land’s stated 
share of water — an unvarying frac- 
tion of the total, which may be plen- 
tiful or meagre according to how 
much rain has fallen that season, on 
mountains a hundred miles away. 

If the rains fail, the river shrinks 
and temptation stalks the land. Men 
who believed themselves honest 
leave a gate open just a little longer 
than their due. Some make them- 
selves a private key to the main 
gate. Others take water ahead of the 
strict schedule. The next Thursday, 
instead of four cases, the Tribunal 
has 14. 

As growing Valencia pushes out 
into the surrounding countryside, 
more and more of those summoned 
before the Tribunal are builders, 
businessmen, municipal officials. A 
soft-drink distributor has to pay 
9,000 pesetas (Rs. 700) damages for 
letting into the canal the water in 
which his bottles were washed. 
When a new housing development, 
for lack of a proper sewage system, 
uses the canal instead, the mayor 
himself is summoned. (He doesn’t 
come in person, but he admits to 
the Tribunal that the city was in the 
wrong.) A soap factory contami- 
nates irrigation water with its resi- 
due. .The company’s lawyer comes 
to the cathedral, but refuses to enter 
what seems to him a mock Tribunal, 
interesting only to tourists and 
antiquarians. When his company is 



VALENCIA'S TRIBUNAL OF WATERS 


1964 

sentenced to pay a 39,000 pesetas’ 
(Rs.3,000) Bne, he is more respectful. 

The amount of the fines is fixed 
according to a scale which has come 
down from mouth to ear for many 
generations. The fine imposed on 
Martin, who flooded his neighbour’s 
land because he forgot to shut off 
the water, is the same as that meted 
out to Isidro, who did the same 
thing out of spite after a quarrel. 
The court is concerned with facts 
only, not with moral judgements. 

The penalties that really hurt — 
costs and property damage — are not 
assessed by the Tribunal, but by the 
equally ancient local organization 
which stands behind it. Each of the 
eight canal systems, each acequta, 
IS ruled by an executive committee 
which chooses an unpaid sindico to 
oversee the canal’s budget, opera- 
tion and repairs. Sitting together, 
the eight sindicos form the Tri- 
bunal. Each accquia has its dWn 
rules and its own special patrolman, 
the guarda torncro, who checks the 
padlocked main gates of his 
aceqtiia every day. He pulls out 
weeds and branches, notes leaks and 
repair jobs, and makes sure that no 
one is getting water overtime. By 
the Tribunal’s long tradition, the 
guarda needs no witness to corro- 
borate his charges; his testimony is 
accepted as **palabra de rcy’ — as 
good as the word of the king.^ 

No one knows which people it 
was whose patience and skill labori- 
ously turned the fever-laden swamps 
of the Turia’s delta into a garden 


intricately veined with water- 
courses. Some say that they were 
Romans. Others believe that they 
were Moslem farmers brought by 
the Arab invaders, whose caliphs 
(in about the year 960) created a 
Tribunal to administer the ancient 
Arab laws of water. 

Five centuries later, the Arab con- 
querors were driven from Spain. 
But unchanged, in a rapidly chang- 
ing world, the Tribunal-«-Christian 
now — continued to sit on Thurs- 
days as it had for so many Moslem 
generations, because Thursday is 
the eve of Friday, the holy day of 
the Moslem ‘ week. The mosque 
which had sheltered the Tribunal 
was torn down and a cathedral 
erected in its place. But many of the 
farmers brought to judgement were 
still Arabs, to whom, as Moslems, 
entrance into a Christian church 
was denied. Therefore the Tribunal 
held its sessions on unconsecrated 
ground, out of doors, yet within the 
cathedral’s sheltering shadow. 

There is no written or unwritten 
clause of any law br constitution in 
Spain which warrants the existence 
of the Tribunal de las Aguas. Like 
the roots of some ancestral tree, its 
powers go down deep into the soil 
of tradition. 

The Valencian farmers today feel 
no passion for antiquity as such. 
They have kept pace with the times 
technically; tney use modern ma- 
chinery, fertilizers and insecticides. 
They retain their thousand-year-old 
Tribunal because it, too, like a good 

39 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


new tool, is streamlined, practical, 
efficient. They point out that, com- 
pared with the ordinary courts of 
law, it costs almost nothing: the 
sindicos serve as unpaid judges; the 
part-time salaries of the legal ad- 
viser, the executive agent, the secre- 
tary and the bailiff total less than 
^3,000 pesetas (Rs. 2,500) a year. Nor 
are there the months of waiting — 
years if there is an appeal — as so 
often is the case in an ordinary court. 

“Our Tribunal doesn’t waste 
paper,” says Ramon with pride — 
and with scorn for the courts that 
do. No one transcribes the testi- 
mony, no sentences ‘arc published. 
“We Valencians,” he adds, “have 
inherited a mistrust of written con- 
tracts and of signatures on legal 


documents. Our word is our bond 
in daily business— why should it not 
be the same when we arc in court?” 

What the farmers speak, of less 
often, because it is a quality which 
belongs to the Tribunal as much as 
the stones it is made of belong to 
the cathedral, is the court’s impar- 
tiality and its fairness. (In what 
other court can one see its president 
— as has happened within recent 
memory— step down and suddenly 
stand in the culprit’s place?) 

Here is no elaborate machine, 
somehow apart from the citizen 
who pays for it, but a sturdily 
simple and direct piece of self- 
government, dispensing impartial, 
homespun justice under the bene- 
volent eyes of the Twelve Apostles. 



Animal Antics 

An eldfrly billy goat was quickly eliminated from the Corowa, 
Australia, shew-goat championship, and he was placed in the back of 
a truck. 

He watched for a while, then leaped out, made straight for the win 
ning goat’s pen and swallowed the first-pnze card. — AP 

In Washington a narrow bridge has been built over a busy street near 
a park so that squirrels in search of nuts can avoid the whizzing cars. 
The human pedestrians will still have to look out for themselves. 

— jv.o.r p. 

“The neighbours’ pet rabbit, Mciling, brown and white with amber 
eyes, is in Mabel Johnson’s garden wrecking the phlox. Mrs. lohnson is 
unable to take any action against the animal, as it was named after one 

her dear friends. — From the Fdgaitown, Mau&chuietti, Vineyard Gazette 



Exciting discoveries 
made recently by Dr. Hans Selye, 
the famous researcher who 
dsveloped the stress theory 
of disease, may lead to 
ways of delaying mans cueing process 


New Se;j] ^'ii for 
(he 
of 


By ]. D, Rattlii-f 


O N February 19, 1962— the 
day before American astro- 
naut John Glenn went into 
orbit — a group of U.S, Air Force 
medical researchers sat in the Uni- 
versity of Montreal office of Dr. 
Hans belye, discussing the stresses 
man could expect to face in space. 
One officer asked an idle question : 
Didn’t Sclye worry about fire in his 
magnificent library — the world’s 
best collection on glands and stress^ 
Dr. Selye laughed. The library, 
he said, had been started in Vienna 
in 1848, and in over a century there 
had been no fire. Further, workmen 


were at that moment installing a 
new fire-protection system. 

Within 24 hoprs calamity struck 
Fire, possibly started by a work- 
man’s blowlamp, raced through 
stacks of journals, reprints, precious 
books. The library was almost 
totally destroyed. 

Response to this disaster provides 
heartwarming evidence of the 
esteem in wfikh the world holds 
Hans Selye. Offers of help in re- 
building jxiured in. The Rockefeller 
Institute offered duplicates of any- 
thing in Its library. A Russian 
researcher sent copies of all his 

41 



THE READERS DIGEST 


papers and urged colleagues to do 
the same. A Canadian housewife 
sent one dollar and a note : “It isn’t 
much, but 1 would like to do some- 
thing.” Foundations and indi- 
viduals in many countries have 
contributed over 600,000 dollars 
(Rs. 28 5 lakhs) to rebuild the Selyc 
library. 

By any measure, Hans Selye is 
one of today’s most remarkable re- 
search mcn.» With equipment no 
more elaborate than a pair of dissec- 
tion forceps he developed a theory 
as broad as Pasteur’s concept of the 
germ origin of disease. According 
to Selye, sustained stress of any kind 
—worry, injury, continuous fatigue 
— ^brings on the bulk of human 
misery, from artery hardening, to 
heart disease, to arthritis.* 

And now Selye has developed a 
concept even more striking: With 
increasing age the human body loses 
Its ability to wash out products of its 
own metabolism — particularly cal- 
cium. Accumulations of calcium at 
various points in the body account 
for scores of diseases, from arthritis 
to gallstones. “Old age itself,” 
according to ScTyc, “may be an 
expression of calcium shift from 
bones to soft tissues.” If this shift 
can be prevented, the ageing process 
may be stayed and an ancient goal — 
a medical fountain of youth — 
realized. 

Born in Vienna 56 years ago, 
Selyc is slightly built, with greying 

* See “Stress — ^The Cause of All Diseose?" 
The Reader’s Digest, February 1955 

4 ^ 


February 

hair. His Hungarian father, his 
grandfather and his great-grand- 
father were doctors. By the time he 
was eight he spoke four languages: 
Hungarian learned from his father, 
German from his Austrian mother, 
French from a nurse, English from 
a tutor. Today he lectures without 
notes in ten languages, including 
Russian, Portuguese and Czech. 

Selye leads a Spartan life. Up be- 
fore. 5 a.m., he docs press-ups, rides 
a stationary bicycle, takes a cold 
shower, cooks his own breakfast 
and reaches his office at six o’clock. 
“I sometimes find the three hours of 
solitude before the others arrive the 
most productive of the day,” he 
says. At 9 a.m. the lab rounds begin 
and at 10.30 Selye takes his place at 
the head of a horseshoe-shaped, 
stainless steel lab table. Magnifying 
spectacles perched on his nose, he 
begins examining experimental rats, 
looking for clues to human disease. 
Assistants — young scientists from 
all over the world — cluster round. 

Lunch is a sandwich and some 
fruit brought from home. Until a 
few years ago there was a ritual for 
late afternoon. With his four chil- 
dren trotting behind him, Selye 
would do two laps round tlie big 
McGill University grounds, near his 
home. Recently a sore hip, injured 
when he fell while climbing a tree, 
has interfered with this. After din- 
ner with his wife and children, 
there arc geography and word 
games to stimulate the minds of the 
young. At 9.30 lights arc out. 



NEW SEARCH FOR THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH 


1^4 

It was 25 years ago that Selye 
noted the extraordinary phenome- 
non that led to his stress theory. If 
rats were subjected to sustained 
stress of any kind — ^heat, cold, 
fatigue, frustration, injury— he 
found that deadly internal wreckage 
resulted. They got the rat equivalent 
of human ulcers, heart disease, 
hardened arteries, arthritis, etc 



Dr. Hans Selye 


Sclye reasoned his way to an ex- 
planation. At all times the body 
strives to maintain equilibrium. In 
the main the balancing job is done 
by the pituitary gland under the 
brain, and the two adrenal glands 
astride the kidneys. Whenever the 
body is confronted with a challenge 
It is the task of these glands to meet 
It. If the body is chilled, hormones 
constrict arteries and hoist blood 
pressure to provide greater warmth. 


If there is infection, an area of in- 
flammation is laid down to localize 
damage. 

But suppose the challenge is con- 
tinuous? Isn't it possible for the 
glands to be worked to death, to be 
thrown out of chemical kilter? 

Selye put caged rats on the lab 
roof in frigid winter air. For a 
while they frisked about happily. 
Then they began to slow down. 
Finally they huddled in abject 
misery. When they were autopsied, 
the extent of internal wreckage was 
truly amazing. Adrenals were 
bloated to three times normal size. 
There was lymphatic wreckage, 
ulcers. 

Would other stresses have the 
same effect? Rats were put in re- 
volving cages, poisoned, subjected 
continuously to screeching sirens, 
frustrated by being strapped on their 
backs. Always there was the same 
internal wreckage— wreckage that 
mimicked dozensofhumandiscases. 

There could be but one con- 
clusion: “The apparent cause of 
illness IS often* i^n infection, an 
intoxication, nervous exhaustion, or 
merely old age. Actually, a break- 
down of the hormonal adaptation 
mechanism seems more frequently 
to be the real cause." 

The broad principles laid down 
by the stress theory triggered hun- 
dreds of research projects. The 
theory anticipated the discovery of 
cortisone; it opened the way for con- 
trol of malignant hypertension— 
usually deadly within months— by 

43 



THE RE.WER’S DIGEST 


rcmovsl ot sdrcDsk Recent work 

shows that cholesterol in the blood 

shoots upward during emotional 
stress, possibly explaining why wor- 
tiers are prone to heart attacks. To 
quote the British Medical Journal: 
“The value of a theory lies in its 
capacity to weld together isolated 
facts, to stimulate research. No 
theory in living memory has pos- 
sessed these virtues to a greater 
extent.” « 

Now Sclye has come up with his 
new related theory which, accord- 
ing to Dr. Franklin McLean, 
emeritus professor of physiology at 
the University of Chicago, “is sure 
to have an impact on medicine com- 
parable to the earlier stress theory.” 

Solve got the first glimmerings of 
this concept in 1927 while still a 
medical student .it the ( ierman Uni- 
versity of Prague, Czechoslovakia. 

He puzzled about the vital role cal- 
cium plays in the body. C^ikium 
was all right so long as it stayed in 
Its major rcpositorv, the bones. Hut 
why did it migrate to other places to 
cause misery, disease, death to 
freeze shoulders of athletes and 
violinists; to cl()g and harden 
arteries; to destroy vital kidney 
tissue; to choke off the oxygen 
absorptive capacity of the lungs ^ 

Vitamin 1 ) had just been discov- 
ered and was known to play a key 
role in calcium metabolism. What 
would happen, Selyc wondered, if 
you gave rats walloping daily doses 
of the vitamin What effect would 
it have on stored calcium.^ Selyc 

44 


obtained a batch of rats and began 
daily injections. 

When the nits were dnaJly killed 
and dissected, they provided an eye- 
opening spectacle. Their hearts, kid- 
neys, lungs and other internal 
organs were heavily calcified and in 
the process of turning to stone ! 

Five years later, working at Johns 
Hopkins Medical School in Balti- 
more as a Rockefeller research 
fellow, Sclyc had another question. 
What would happen when rats were 
given parathyroid hormone, which, 
like vitamin D, is also involved in* 
body utilization of calcium? The 
result added another chapter to the 
Prague story : calcium deposits 
formed in the skin, plus strange, 
stonc-like patches of calcification in 
the necks of the animals. What did 
It mean ^ 

Selye laid the entire project aside 
when he moved on to teach at the 
McCJiil medical school, and later to 
head the University of Montreal’s 
Institute of Experimental Medicine 
and Surgery. Phe next 25 years were 
devoted to developing his stres.s 
theory. Yet that troubling business 
about the calcified rats never com- 
pletely left his mind. 

By 19(10 he was re.idy to go back 
to it. Major staff members were 
summoned. Among the ten quali- 
fied men there were scientists from 
India, the Argentine, C^.echo- 
slovakia, the United States, Italy, 
Belgium. Selyc outlined his ideas. 

It seemed remotely possible that 
this calcium business might be 



NEW SEARCH FOR THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH 


19^4 

Fradicr like allergy. In allergy an 
individual becomes sensitized 
say, ragweed pollen; next time the 
pollen is encountered he reacts with 
a runny nose and bleary eyes. Per- 
haps vitamin D and parathyroid 
hormone sensitized animals. Later, 
when the animals encountered a 
“challenger,” they reacted — their 
calcium metabolism went berserk. 
Selye recalled that in humans calcifi- 
cation often follows injury: frost- 
bitten cars frequendy harden, badly 
burned skin calcified, etc. What 
if slight injury was inflicted on 
hormone- or vitamin-treated rats? 

The first step was to start giving 
rats moderate to heavy daily doses 
of either DHT (a vitamin D rela- 
tive) or parathyroid hormone.Then, 
after a waiting period, the animals 
were given slight pinches with for- 
ceps. Within 48 hours skin at the 
pinched spot had become stone-like. 
It had calcified! At last it became 
clear why the necks of the animals 
at Johns Hopkins University had 
hardened. Selye had picked them 
up by their necks for injections. 
Even this slight pressure was 
enough to trigger calcium deposits. 

Would other things beside injury 
achieve the same result? Chemicals, 
for example? The researchers tried 
just about everything in the lab’s 
chemical cupboard, and right from 
the beginning results were arrest- 
ing. When animals were challenged 
with metallic salts — particularly 
compounds of iron, chromium and 
lead— internal organs were wrecked 


by whitish calcium deposits. De- 
pending on which challenger was 
used and how it was administered, 
calcium could be laid down at will 
almost anywhere— in heart and 
arteries to mimic cardiovascular 
disease, in joints to mimic arthritis, 
in the spleen, liver, lungs, pancreas, 
salivary glands. 

By now, it was clear to the 
researchers that they were dealing 
with an entirely new phenomenon. 
Borrowing from Latin and Greek 
roots, Selye named it calciphylaxis 
—increased sensitivity to calcium. 

As the work continued, strange 
things began to happen. In one ex- 
periment Selye wished to produce 
a massive calcium migration which 
would almost totally deplete an ani- 
mal of calcium stored in its bones. 
(On a lesser scale this happens in 
humans; as calcium is drained 
away, aged bones become brittle.) 
A rat was sensitized with DHT, 
then an iron salt was infiltrated 
under the skin in the hope of draw- 
ing the stored calcium to this part of 
the body. EverythiAg progressed as 
planned — the rat’s skin gradually 
became rock-hard. Then at the end 
of three weeks a startling thing 
happened. The rat started nibbling 
at Its stony shell. It was shedding! 
Fresh new skin and hair were 
underneath; from within the old, 
dead-beat rat a rodent teenager 
emerged. 

Might the same procedure be used 
on humans— not to bring about 
total shedding but only to remove 

45 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


the skin of a selected area? To get 
rid of, say, scars, bremishes, wrin- 
kles on the face? It is a future pos- 
sibility. “But at the moment,” says 
Selye, “our chemicals are far too 
toxic for human use.'* 

In another project Selye decided 
to study generalized calcification 
rather than calcification of a single 
target organ. A batch of young 
female rats began getting huge daily 
doses of DHT. Within ^ days they 
were like tottering old women. 
Teeth had deteriorated. Body 
weight had melted away. Cataracts 
obscured vision. Skin was wrinkled, 
backs were hunched. Hair had 
fallen out to give a moth-eaten 
appearance. There was calcification 
of vocal cords (which gives aged 
humans their high-pitched quaver- 
ing voices). 

Only one conclusion could be 
drawn from these observations. 
Always before, researchers had 
assumed that calcium shift was the 
natural result of the ageing process. 
“Ij now appears likely,” says Selye, 
“that the shift is the cause of 
ageing.” 

Were there chemical preventives 
for this induced senility ? Selye 
began injecting animals in the 
accelerated ageing programme with 
iron dextran, a drug which, though 
dangerous, has been used to increase 
the haemoglobin content of the 
blood. Possibly, he r^*asoned, mole- 
cules of iron coursing through the 
bloodstream would attract micro- 
scopic bits of calcium — holding 
46 


them in captivity and preventing 
their being deposited in tissues and 
organs. 

The hunch was right. Animals 
that got injections of iron dextran 
remained youthful while their 
brothers progressed rapidly to old 
age and death. 

Thus, characteristics reminiscent 
of senility have been produced and 
prevented in rats. Are these obser- 
vations translatable to man? “It 
seems improbable,” says Selye, 
“that such a fundamental reaction 
should not exist in man. It is un- 
likely that we will ever be able to 
make a man of 90 regress to 60. But 
it appears quite prc^able that we 
shall be able to prevent the man of 
60 from progressing to the condi- 
tion of a man of 90.” 

Calciphylaxis suggests other ex- 
traordinary possibilities. At will, 
calcium can be laid down in almost 
any organ or tissue by careful 
adjustment of sensitizer and chal- 
lenger. Do combinations exist 
which will deposit it in cancers — in’* 
effect building an escape-proof stone 
wall around them? In one series of 
rat experiments Selye’s group has 
achieved this. Since then they have 
been unable to repeat the experi- 
ment, but major effort is being ex- 
pended in this area. 

Thus, in dozens of directions the 
new concept opens exciting vistas. 
Calciphylaxis, according to Medical 
Tribune, “may well be regarded a 
generation hence as a landmark in 
experimental pathology.” 



Your Savings 
Account 
of 

Memories 

A diary can pay 
interest in all sorts of 
unexpected ways 

By John Fisher 

\EVER used to keep a diary the name of that hotel helped us to 
until, one evening, I watched recall so much more: the flower- 
my wife reading hers. She was covered rocks, the sound of the 
sighing reminiscently as she turned wrinkled blue sea below, walks 
the pages. “I enjoyed our honey- together through the hills scented 
moon so much,” she murmured. “I with pine and rcKk-rosc, the fisher- 
can still remember every detail of it: men playing bowls, the fair where I 
the wallpaper in our room and even won a bottle of wine. And so much 
the green and red stripes of those else besides, 
fish we caught near the islands.” I At that moment I decided to start 
looked over her shoulder, and was my own savings account of recol- 
astonished to sec that she had lections, and already my diary has 
written only three words — “Roches preserved a thousand different 
Flciiries, Aigucbelle” — on that memories, all precious to me: the 
bright day. Three words, but just routes of favourite walks, snatches 

Condensed from Woman's Day 



47 


THE READER^S DIGEST February 


of conversation, the proud moment 
when my son came home with his 
first tennis cup, the state of the tide 
the day I capsized my sailing boat, 
and the woe which beset us all when 
we got back from holiday to find 
a robin dead near her nest in the 
garage, because we had forgotten to 
tell the police not to shut the garage 
window. 

The mere process of compiling a 
diary bririjgs its own reward, a sense 
of order and propriety, a feeling 
that not a drop of goodness has been 
spilt or lost during the 24 hours. It 
also provides relaxation. Within its 
pages you can be free from the self- 
justification that you so often feel 
tempted to impose on the outer 
world and, because you write only 
for your own amusement and not 
for posterity, you can be entirely 
honest. 

I believe, too, that everyone can 
draw comfort from looking back in 
a diary to see how unimportant past 
controversies now are, or to see how 
his own ideas have changed. For 
instance, r8 ir^onths ago I wrote: 
‘Thyllis clamojuring for dog: for 
the children’s sake, she says. Told 
her that in the city it would be 
unfair to dog. Had to put my foot 
down.” 

Then, about a year ago : “Came 
back from office to find enormous 
black-and-white dog monopolizing 
hearthrug. Children have named 
him ‘Tinker.’ ” 

One winter’s day some months 
later: “Am certain evening walk is 


doing me as much good as Tinker. 
Good idea of mine to get a dog. . 

And what a sense of proportion 
you get by looking back over the 
past. Whenever I need a little extra 
feith in the future I turn to an entrv 

j 

written in my wife’s diary in 1940, a 
few nights after we were bombed 
out of our London flat : “Bombed 
at 5.30. The most awful week of my 
life. We feel like refugees.” 1 wrote 
the next day: “Insisted that Phyllis 
go to the country for safety. Is ours 
a broken home after only two years 
of marriage I thought at the time 
that it must be. I felt that we should 
never succeed in bringing up a 
family, that I should never manage 
to pursue my peacetime career again 
and that the war would never be 
over. Today that entry, “The most 
awful week of my life,” reminds 
us both how transient our present 
disasters can be. 

Meanwhile, I find that my diary 
gives me an extra zest for life, for 
each moment of the day may pro- 
vide me with just the material I am 
seeking. Surroundings assume new 
colours. I notice details that before 
would have passed me by. Knowing 
that I may write about somcthnig 
or somebody gives me a new sense 
of awareness. 

A diary can be made up almost 
entirely of trifles. Simply include 
everything of importance to you. I 
like to record unusual phiasts and 
expressions that catch my imagina- 
tion. Because I can’t remember 
jokes, I write down the ones that 



YOUR SAVINGS ACCOUNT OF MEMORIES 


1964 


I think might be worth rc-tclling. 

A diary earns its keep in all kinds 
of unexpected ways. In insurance 
matters, the exact knowledge of 
times and dates and places can often 
tip the balance in your favour when 
you make a claim. When you en- 
tertain, a diary can keep you from 
serving roast beef and chocolate 
souffle to the same friends for the 
third time running. 

One useful entry in my diary 
read, “Phyllis umbrella, November 
7.“ I had made it six months before 
when my wife remarked that her 
umbrella was worn out, but not 
worth replacing before the winter. 
November 7 is her birthday and, 
when it came round, my diary en- 
sured that there was no problem 
about what to give her. Her 
amazed, “How on earth did you 
know?” made the entry worth a 
thousand words. 

There is no compelling reason 


why a diary should begin on 
January i. I started in February 
with an entry reading, “Thawed 
out frozen waste-pipe with hot- 
water bottle.” 

The number of words a diarist 
writes varies each day according 
to his mood. On the day that the 
French Revolution began with the 
storming of the Bastille, Louis XVI 
wrote only one word in his diary: 

(“Nothing.”) • 

Diary writing, of course, involves 
a certain amount of self-discipline. 
There is a challenge which occurs 
particularly when the thought of 
keeping it stands between you and 
a hot bath or a book at bedtime, 
or when you must wake earlier in 
order to keep your entries up to 
date. But once you get the habit, it 
is not hard to keep going. All you 
need 1$ a love of life, the conviction 
that it IS short and that every 
moment is precious. 



. Mark My fVords 

/ames Gordon Bennett had a list of editorial taboos for his Pans Herald. 
One pet injunction involved the verb “to stay.’* Nobody can stay at a 
place, he must stop or remain. The French linotype 'operators, aware of 
most -of the don'ts, applied them automatically when missed by a desk 
man. Thus it was that an operator corrected a sentence in a reviewer’s 
report on a music-hall show describing the contortions of “a lady trying 
to adjust her stays.” What got into the paper was “a lady trying to adjust 

her remains.” — ^Enc Hawkins with Robert Sturdevant in 

Hawkins of the Parts Heialtt 

^9 



Toughest 
Little Ships 
Afloat 


By Iamls Nathan Millir 



IVhether plodding the sea 
lanes xnth their enormous 
tows or racing to the aid of 
a ship in distress, Holland’s 
famous oceangoing tugs have 
eartied the respect of seamen 
the world over 


ANYONE but a Dutchman 
I the scene that autumn in the 
JL river town of Kinderdijk, in 
the Netherlands, mi?ht have caused 
bewilderment. A ship was being 
launched with elaborate ceremony, 
Its sponsor Crown Princess Beatrix, 
the guests the cream of Dutch, aris- 
tocracy and officialdom. The band 
played, the champagne bottle 
smashed, the hull slid down the 
ways, and there in the water lay the 



newly christened Zwarte Zee — formidable business of pulling 
a tugboat ! the seemingly unpullable around the 

Zwarte Ztr, the fourth ship of oceans of the world, and spitting in 
that name, is no ordinary tugboat the hurricane’s eye along the way. 
but the bearer of a briny heritage of As a British merchant skipper 
national esteem. She is the flagship phrases it, “It takes a blinking crazy 
of L. Smit & Co.’s Internationale Dutchman to go out in those blink- 
Slecpd.ienst (towing service) of Rot- mg crazy corks.” 
terdam, the world’s largest operator At the moment Zwarte Zee slid 
of oceangoing tugs. down the ways, the rest of Smit’s 

For almost a century the Dutch 22-ship fleet, scattered in every one 
have largely monopolized the of the seven seas, was accounting for 

5 ^ 




THE READER^S DIGEST teOmury 


half the world’s transoccan commer- 
cial haulage. lerse Zee and Tasman 
Zee were straining eastward across 
the South Adantic in tandem, haul- 
ing the monster supertanker Naess 
Spirit, which had dropped her pro- 
peller to the bottom of Rio de 
Janeiro’s harbour, to a repair yard 
in Cape Town. Witte Zee was tow- 
ing a ferryboat and a refrigerated 
barge from Bilbao, Spain, to Monte- 
video, Urugjiay. Elbe had a floating 
crane in the Arabian Sea going from 
Abadan to Karachi. Carthische Zee, 
having just refloated a tanker 
grounded on the western tip of 
Cuba, was steaming full speed to 
the disabled Panamanian steamer 
Christopher, wallowing helpless off 
Honduras. 

It’s a wild and woolly business, 
thi-i ocean tugging, a throwback to 
the days of wooden ships and iron 
men. The crews are out of sight of 
land longer, and work closer to the 
water, than those of any other mer- 
chant .ships. In one howling storm 
in the Bay of Biscay two Smit tugs 
hauling a tin dredge to Indonesia 
battled the wav?s [or three solid 
weeks without m’^iking anv firo- 
gress. 

Come abfxard one of these dray- 
horse corks, the Smit tug Noordzee, 
as she strains heavily down the 
South American coast By tugboat 
standards Noordzee is a big ship— 
about twice the size of a harbour 
tug — but the high bridgc-nousc for- 
ward, the flat, sauccrlike working 
space aft that occupies half her 
52 


length, and her hcavy-churning 
muscular wake stamp her for what 
she is. So does her tow, a third of a 
mile behind : two tremendous steel 
pontoons, each twice as big as the 
tug itself. Loaded piggyback on one 
of them are a harbour tugboat and a 
huge dragline crane; on the other 
are 350 tons of heavy metal pipe. 
They arc bound from New Orleans 
to Tierra del Fuego at the bottom 
of South America. 

Though the day is clear and calm 
by big ship standards, there is a con- 
stant roll and pitch on Noordzee*s 
deck. Much of the time the pon- 
toons are out of sight to her 22-man 
crew, for so dose is their ship to the 
sea that these tiigmen, when in the 
trough of a wave, arc looking up .it 
the wave crests. And when the wind 
begins to howl and the comlicrs 
build up, the men must actually go 
into the water — sometimes up to 
thcip necks in it — to tend the tow- 
line on the afterdeck. 

It takes a special breed. “We can’t 
have men who arc loo careful in this 
business,” says Arthur Wijsmullcr, 
one of the managing directors of 
Bureau Wijsmuller, Smit’s largest 
competitor. “A careful man tends 
to be limited in his decisions.” 

Though any tugboat master cc-uld 
sail an ocean liner across the Atlan- 
tic, the average ship’s master would 
soon find himself in trouble trying 
to handle a tug and its tow, for this 
IS an immensely specialized job On 
Noordzee s tiny bridge, Captain 
A. W. van der Pod must be foi 



TOUGHEST UTTLE SHIPS AFLOAT 


j(j64 

ever looking back over his shoul- 
der. Like a kite on a string, the tow 
has an evil propensity to swing back 
and forth in ever-increasing arcs, 
and it can go rushing far off on the 
tug’s beam and actually pull ahead 
of her. Then its monstrous cable, 
slicing through the water, claws 
sideways at the tug with such mal- 
evolent force as to take control of 
the vessel and put it in danger of 
capsizing. 

When a high wind starts pushing 
at the great “sail” of a tow’s hull, 
even the most skilful skipper can 
find himself in great danger. In 
December 1962, Smit’s Oceaan was 
pulling an old Great Lakes ore boat 
loaded with 7,000 tons of scrap iron 
from Quebec to Genoa when a ncar- 
hurricanc slammed down on the 
two ships 

The ponderous laker, ten times 
as heavy as the tug, went career- 
ing off on Oceaan s beam and 
dragged her sideways so viciously 
that the tug couldn’t answer her 
helm. Her entire aftcrdcck was 
pulled under the waves and she 
started tipping ominously to port. 
There was nothing to do but send 
men into the raging ocean on the 
afterdeck to cast off the towline. 
The laker sank two days later. 

You’ll see more foul weather from 
the deck of a tug than from any 
other ship. On the Noordzee’s slow 
voyage down South America, half a 
dozen vicious gales pounce on her. 
When she reaches Tierra del Fuego, 
she is 104 days out of New Orleans 


and has covered 8,200 miles at an 
average speed of under four knots. 
And then she is off again imme- 
diately, this time across the Atlantic 
to Swakopmund in South-West 
Africa to pick up another tow. 

These tugs trace their ancestry to 
i860, when an Englishman named 
John Roger Watkins demonstrated 
that the easiest way to get a dredger 
from Gravesend, Kent, to Cadiz, 
Spain, was to drag it th?re — ^by sea. 
Those were the days when empires 
were being carved out of the jungle, 
and there was a huge demand all 
over the world for bucket dredges 
and sandsuckers to build harbours 
and make rivers navigable. The 
Dutch combined a seafaring tradi- 
tion with vast experience in river 
dredging and canal building — a 
combination precisely suited to the 
needs of the oceangoing- tug busi- 
ness. Soon Dutch-built dredgers 
hauled by Dutch tugs were crawling 
all over the globe. 

Dutch tugboat skippers quickly 
became rccognizejl as among the 
world’s finest seamen. One navi- 
gated a tow through the Straits of 
Magellan in wintertime without 
charts. Another, while connecting 
up to a drifting ship in a gale off the 
Netherlands coast, took his tug so 
hard in on the churning breakers 
that when he eventually got back to 
deep water his ^eck was covered 
with sand. 

At the same time, the crews were 
enhancing their own reputations on 
the waterfronts of the world as the 

53 



THE READER^S DIGEST February 


roughest, toughest sailors afloat, 
Once, in Singapore, a tug crew took 
on most of the complement of a 
U.S. destroyer and handled them 
with such dispatch that next day, as 
the tug steamed down the harbour, 
the Americans lined up on their 
afterdeck and stood respectfully to 
attention. 

Among the tug crews themselves, 
none were tougher than the “run- 
ners” whose lonely, dirty, danger- 
ous job it was to ride the tow tj her 
destination. A semaphore signal to 
the tug was their only contact with 
the outside world for weeks on end. 
Wet and freezing in a North Atlan- 
tic winter, or slowly dehydrating 
under the pitiless red eye of an In- 
dian Ocean sun, they pumped their 
charge when she took in too much 
Water, hooked her up again when 
she broke loose in a gale, and occa- 
sKjnally swam for their lives when 
she sank under them. 

Today the tugger’s life is a bit 
easier, but not much. The ships are 
air-conditioned, tjje runners are in 
walkie-talkie contaci with the tug, 
and after six months at sea the crews 
arc flown home for two months’ 
leave. But the basic conditions of sea 
and wind arc the .same. 

One aspect of the occangoing-tug 
business docs not endear the corks 
to inc maritime world. This is the 
fact that, in salv.igc operations, they 
are largely money-motivated angels 
of mercy. 

At strategically spotted rescue 
stations in the Indian Ocean, the 
54 


North Sea, the Mediterranean, the 
Persian Gulf and the Adantic 
—wherever the web of shipping 
lanes draws together— Smit tugs 
wait at their docks to sail at ten 
minutes’ notice, their radio opera- 
tors scanning the airwaves for the 
signal of a ship in distress. At the 
Smit communications centre at 
Maassluis, in the Netherlands, 12 
radios scan the short-wave bands, 
while in every major port of the 
world Smit agents have their own 
private ears to the wind. 

Once a distress message has been 
received, the other facet of the tug- 
boat’s personality — her bloodhound 
role — comes into play. This remark- 
able little craft with her mammoth 
diesel engines can make about 20 
knots when she has to. Such speed, 
combined with her superb manoeu- 
vrability, makes her unexcelled as a 
rescue vessel and habitually takes 
her out when the wind is screaming 
its loudest and all sensible craft have 
long since made for the safety of the 
harbour. 

Speed is essential to financial suc- 
cess. Because a rescue job can mean 
big money, competing ears arc 
tuned to the same wave bands, other 
tugs have steam up and crews 
aboard, ready to pounce. 

They come barrelling down on 
a distressed ship waving a contract. 
“I am proceeding to your aid,*’ 
flashes ihe message. “Will you 
accept assistance under Lloyd’s 
Open Form.?” This refers to a legal 
document. Its heading, “No Cure 



TOUGHEST UTTLE SHIPS AFLOAT 


i 96 f 


No^Pay/’ means that no matter how 
long or hard the tug labours to save 
a ship, if the rescue is unsuccessful 
the tug gets nothing. But the con- 
tract also provides that, if the rescue 
does come-off, an arbitrator in Lon- 
don will award payment on the 
basis of the ship’s value and the 
degree of danger she was in. For a 
vamable ship in serious trouble this 
can run into hundreds of thousands 
of pounds, of which the tug’s crew 
shares a percentage. 

So sometimes, while waves smash 
against a disabled ship, the airwaves 
crackle with the bargaining between 
vicnm and rescuer, and it is then 
that the merchant skippers curse 
the tugmen roundly as a flock of 
vultures. 

Of course, when life is in danger 
the tugs forget the contract, for the 
crews are, above all, brave sailors 
who well know the code of the sea. 
In 1961 the motor ship Achtlles, 
with 30 passengers aboard, radioed 
that she was drifting with a dead 
engine. The tug Humber put out 


from Ponta Dclgada in the Azores, 
got a line aboard her and started 
pulling her to port. But Hurricane 
E>ebbie’s main force hit them as 
they were a mile from the cliffs 
of Arcos Point, forcing both tug 
and tow rapidly towards the shat- 
tering breakers. 

As they drew near the rocks, the 
tug’s engine was pushed hotter and 
faster than it had ever been designed 
for. The towline looked ready to 
snap and foul her propeller. They 
could have saved themselves by cast- 
ing Achilles off, but — what matter 
whether it was the lives at stake or 
the Lloyd’s form that impelled them 
— ^they hung on until, providen- 
tially, the wind shifted and they 
could reach the safety of the open 
ocean. 

Numberless ships and their crews 
owe their lives to the little tugs. 
They may look like the humblest 
craft afloat, but they show no 
humility to either man or weather 
as they inch their way endlessly 
around the world. 


Many Hands Make Light Work 

c=VcRowi> had gathered outside the cage of the mother orang-outang and 
her new baby at I he zoo. Each time the tiny monkey tried to climb around 
the cage, the mother nonchalantly reached out with one of her paws and 
pulled the baby back. 

“Just look at that big apti” one woman said to* her friend. “Doesn’t 
she have a contented look on her face?” 

“Why shouldn’t she,’’ her friend retorted. “She’s got what every mother 
would like to have — four arms I ’’ — Ceciie Diamond 


55 



'**Self-Portraitr 
by courtesy of 
^ Louvre^ Pati\ 


He Opened 
the Door to 


Ry CiroRGE Kent 

PARTY was in progress one day 
in 1853 at'thc Pans home of 
A. novelist Alexandre Dumas. 
All his painter friends were there to 
decorate the walls with murals. 
Eugene Delacroix was the last to 
arrive. Without taking off his cloak 
or putting on a smock, he picked up 
a piece of charcoal. With three 
strokes, there was a horse. Another 
five or six and the horse had a rider. 
Ten more and there was a landscape 
with minor figures. The other 
painters stopped working to watch. 
^6 





Modern Art 

“A painting should fir fit and 
foremost be a feast for the 
eye,” Delacroix said. And 
with his glowing, pozverjul 
pictures, he prozvd himself a 
master chef 

Now Delacroix took brushes and 
palette and, with ama/ing swiftness, 
gave full colour to the tottering 
horse and bleeding rider, feet out of 
the stirrups, bowed over his lance. 
In two hours the painting— a slciic 
from a Spanish novel- was finished. 
The onlcKjkcrs burst into a thunder 
of handclapping. Delacroix looked 
up in surprise. So intense was his 
concentration that he had not been 
aware of the crowd around him. 

This great French painter could 
not only work with remarkable 




"Liberty Leading the Feople^'^ the Louvre^ Pans 


speed, but could also paint in a picture conceived bv another artist 
bewildering variety of styles: can- was a copy Ce/an^y had made of a 
vases bathed in light, others whose Delacroix. Manet, Renoir, Matisse, 
darkness recalled Rembrandt, por- Degas, Rouault were all indebted to 
traits, animals, flowers, vast battle him. Picasso’s famous “(niernica’' 
scenes, ejuiet interiors. All glowed is a direct descendant of the picture 
with colour, often in audacious Delacroix p.iintcd as a protest 
combinations. against the massacre of 20,000 

Delacroix opened the door tor (Jreekson the islafid of ('hios. 
the modern school of painting. Van Ferdinand Victor Eugene Dela- 
(iogh came to P.iris for the sole pur- croix was born in a Pans suburb in 
pose of seeing the master’s “Piet.\,” 1798, nine years after the Frencli 

which he copied and rccopied. In Revolution. As most of his bio- 
CkV.annc’s studio the only important graphers attest, his real father was 

57 



THE READERS DIGEST 


Prince Talleyrand, the master dipio- 
mat. (His nominal father was minis- 
ter to Holland.) There was consider- 
able artistic talent on his motlier’s 
side. It was the gift of a box of 

E aints from an uncle which started 
im on his career. By the time 
Eugene was i6, both his parents had 
died and the family wealth had 
been frittered away. When he was 
older he wrote, “There is no situa- 
tion worse ^an not knowing where 
cnc will eat next week.” 

A highly excitable young man, he 
once saw a painting he admired and 
ran half way across Paris to his attic 
room to get to his easel before the 
impression vanished. His first ap- 
pearance before the public came 
when he was 24, at the Paris Salon. 
He was too poor to buy a frame for 
the eight-foot-wide painting he 
wanted to exhibit, and it might 
ne/er have been hung if a kind bene- 
factor had not provided the frame. 
The canvas, “Dante and Virgil,” 
showed the two poets in hell sur- 
rounded by the writhing bodies of 
the damned; it is now in the Louvre. 

Delacroix rushed to the opening 
of the Salon to hear what people 
would say about his first picture. 
But instead of the praise he expect- 
ed, he heard sneers and laughter, “A 
formless dauber,” said one critic. 
“A charlatan^” cried another. Next 
day he bought the newspapers. 
Only one had a favourable word for 
him. Adolphe Thiers, later Minister 
of Commerce, said it was a beautiful 
painting, with here and there “a 
5 ^ 


burst of talent '' That saved the day 
for the young man. The adverse 
criticism was forgotten. 

It was the beginning of an extra- 
ordinarily productive career. “Work 
is my only passion, but what a 
assion,” he wrote. Awake at dawn, 
e breakfasted on a bit of breajl, 
then painted without pause until 
late in the afternoon. Eventually, 
drained of emotion, he would read 
poetry to refresh himself. 

In those days before the invention 
of the camera, painters were much 
in demand for recreating historical, 
scenes. Delacroix lavished acres of 
canvas on these pages of history, 
with a passion for light and colour 
that was to make him immortal. “A 
painting should first and foremost 
be a feast for the eye,” he said. And 
he was a master chef. 

This speciality made him wealthy. 
The government was always in the 
market for the decoration of public 
buildings. From poverty, Delacroix 
went on to case. He became one of 
the first painters in modern times to 
make a handsome living with his 
brush. 

Genius has been described as an 
infinite capacity for taking pains. 
Delacroix worked for months on his 
“Massacre of Chios,” then lugged 
all T43 square feet of it across Paris 
to the Salon three days before the 
official opening. The story goes that- 
on his way home he looked in at 
an exhibition of the work of John 
Constable, the English landscape 
painter. Constable’s handling of 




Left: ''Portrait of George Sand^^ 
Ordrupgaard Museum, Copenhagen 



clouds and the changing blues ot the 
heavens came as a revelationp to 
Delacroix. Realizing that the sky of 
his own picture was, in comparison, 
flat and uninteresting, he returned 
to the Salon and carried his un- 
wieldy canvas back to his studio to 
paint an entirely new sky. Only 
when he v\ is completely satisfied, 
two days later, did he make the re- 
turn journey. 

. From the age of 22 he suffered 
from ill health. Chronic malaria 
and a throat ailment often confined 
him to his bed. Yet, though frail 
and sickly, soft-hearted and tender, 
he painted scenes of the greatest 
violence. His historical pictures 
were often of frightful carnage and 


slaughter. The “Massacre" horrified 
the public because of one detail : a 
baby suckling at the breast of a dead 
woman. But even in his goriest 
paintings his sensitive nature comes 
through. The figure of the dying 
workman in “Liberty Leading the 
People" has been described as one 
of the most moving in the history 
of art. 

Delacroix was among the first to 
paint North African scenes. He 
spent six months, there, went every- 
where, sketchbook open, drawing 
people and scenes, gathering ideas 
and inspiration that were to last 
him all his days. In Algiers, he 
gained admission to a harem — ^for 
artistic purposes. Out of that visit 


raoToourai: aokaci 


59 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


came his famous ‘Women of 
Algiers,” considered by many critics 
to be his masterpiece. 

He has another claim to immor- 
tality besides his paintings : he kept 
a diary, a detailed, sensitive, three- 
volume record of his life. A.s a 
document it has been ranked with 
the journal of Samuel Pepys. The 
great men and women of the period 
parade through his pages: Chopin, 
George Santl, Victor Hugo, Dumas, 
and the wife of Shelley. 

Olive-skinned, with somewhat 
oriental eyes, his hair long and 
black almost to the day of his death, 
and with his small moustache, the 
painter was extremely attractive to 
women. They pursued him ardent- 
ly, and be often allowed himself to 
be caught. His enduring Vjve was 
the Baroness Josephine de Forget; 
but for his ill health he would ccr- 
taiiiK have married her. 

As Delacroix grew older, his 
throat ailment became worse. There 
were days when he could not utter 
a syllable. His housekeeper, Jenny, 
who had been with him 28 years, 
would stand guar(j at the door, bar- 
ring all who might weaken his 
health or distract him from his 
painting, l^ut Josephine de Forget 
and his g(X)d friend FrcdericChopin 
came and went as they plea.sed. 

Orscc George Sand asked Dela 
croix to her home — “Come at mid- 
night if you are not too much fif a 


sleepyhead”— to hear Chopin play. 
The scene so impressed Delacroix 
that he painted it— the composer at 
the piano, the novelist standing 
near by listening. The picture 
eventually fell into the hands of a 
businessman who brutally cut it in 
half and sold the two portraits 
separately. One now hangs in the 
Louvre, the other in Copenhagen. 

As Delacroix grew weaker, Jenny 
shut the door to everyone but the 
doctor. A member of the Academic 
dcs BeauX'Arts came to call. Dela- 
croix, who had been rejected seven' 
times before being elected to this 
august society, turned the man 
away. “They hjivc insulted me 
enough,” he told Jenny. 

The honours he had longed for 
came to him late in life -too late. 
He had never been admitted into 
the inner circles of high society. 
Now he was showered with invita- 
tions. And though he had had 
recognition in abundance from the 
young, the old-line critics, almost to 
the end, would not accept him. 

On August 1863, at the age 
of 65, he died. One of his last re- 
marks was, “Oh, if I get well, I will 
do wonderful things. My mind is 
bubbling with ideas.” The final 
word, however, was spoken in the 
catalogue of the centennial exhibi- 
tion of his paintings in Paris last 
year. VEugene Delacroix,” it said, 
“is one of France’s national glorier.” 


^/heri’s a new cigarette out with earplugs in each packet— for smokers 
who don't wa.nt to hear why they should give up smoking. — r B. 




Although not healthier or wealthier, the head 
of this household is certainly wiser 


By Seymour Rothman 


D id you ever climb into bed 
early for a good night’s 
sleep, and wake up the next 
morning feeling on top of the 
world ? 

Neither did I. But it isn’t because 
I haven’t tried. 

The other night, for example, my 
wife caught me yawning right in 
the middle of a television hero gun- 
ning down a couple of strangers, 
and announced that what I needed 
was more rest and why didn’t I 
have a nice warm bath and go to 
bed early for a change. I agreed and 
started up the stairs. 

“I’m not sure there’ll be enough 
hot water,” she called. “I just put 
the last load of washing in.” 

Co“idensed fre 


“I’ll take a cool shower,” I com- 
promised. “Where are my clean 
pyjamas.^” 

“They’re in the last load,” she 
said. 

I got into bed and was just drop- 
ping off when I hpard footsteps at 
the door. The door opened slowly. 
“Arc you asleep?” whispered the 
wife. “No,” I confessed. “Don’t you 
feel well?” “I feel fine.” 

She came over and felt my fore- 
head. 

“It isn’t hot,” she announced. 

“Why should U be?*' I growled. 
“I just felt like going to bed. It was 
your idea.” 

“Try and get some rest,” she 
whispered, and tiptoed out. By then 

: Toledo Blade 


6 / 




THE RR^DEIfS DIGEST February 


I couldn’t close my eyes. I decided 
to read. When I couldn’t find any- 
thing at the bedside, I made my way 
to the bathroom where reading 
matter has a way of accumulating. 

Downstairs old eagle-ears heard 
me. “Darling,” she called, “what 
are you doing in the bathroom?” 

1 avoided the chance to shock the 
whole family. “Looking for some- 
thing to read,” I said. 

“Save ydur eyes. Sleep," she called 
sweedy. 1 read for a while and final- 
ly fell asleep. 1 slept like a newborn 
babe for all of six minutes — and 
then my wife came to bed. 

“Do you mind if I turn the light 
on for a second?” she whispered. “1 
thought you'd be asleep by now.” 

I pulled the sheet over my head. 
But 1 didn’t even have time to fall 
asleep when the wife announced: 
“You’re snoring.” 

“How can I be snoring^” 1 chal- 
lenged. “I’m not even sleeping.’ 

“You’ve got ways. Turn over.” 

About this time we were inter- 
rupted by the pitter-patter of litde 
feet. It was Betty. “I’m going to 
sleep in your be4,” she announced. 

“Don’t bet your pocket money on 
it,” I said. “Just till I go to sleep, 
Daddy. I’ll be quiet.” “O.K. Just 
till you go to sleep.” “Can I turn on 
the radio?” “Of course not.” “I al- 
ways fall asleep with the radio on.” 
“This will be an historic excep- 
tion.” “What does that mean?” “It 
means ‘No I’” 

I picked Betty up and deposited 
her in her own bed. Then I went 
62 


downstairs and stretched out on the 
divan in the study. 

Two minutes — ^and my wife ap- 
peared. “I heard you downstairs,” 
she said. “Are you ill?” 

“If 1 am, I hope it’s sleeping sick- 
ness,” I growled. 

“Good night,” she said, sounding 
a little hurt. 

She had no sooner walked out 
than Betty walked in. “Betty,” I 
said sharply, “go to sleep.” 

“I will, in here,” she said. 

“This divan is too small.” 

“No it isn’t,” she insisted, squeez* 
ing herself between me and the 
wall. “See?” 

Seconds later she was asleep and 
I was falling out of bed. 

1 tiptoed upstairs, climbed into 
Betty’s bed and fell asleep — ^finally. 

Then there was Betty again. 
“Daddy,” she demanded. “What 
are you doing in my bed ? Get out 
of'my bed. 1 want to sleep in it.’’ 

1 got out. She got in. I was just 
leaving her room when my wife 
reappeared. 

“Now what!” I demanded. 
“This carpet won’t last out the 
night. Why don’t you go to sleep? 
I’m going to have some coffee.” 

Back downstairs, I was dozing off 
in the study when I became aware 
of a new fi^e on the scene. It was 
Bobby. “Is there a pencil in here?” 
he a;ked. I sat up and turiled on the 
light. “What on earth do you want 
with a pencil at this hour?” “I want 
to write a note.” “You’re leaving 
home— I hope?” “No, it's about 



EARLY TO BED . 


1964 

something else. I’ll forget it by 
morning.” My wife appeared just 
in time to chase Bobby back to his 
room. 

“This is silly,” she announced, 
turning to me. ”You come right 
back upstairs and go to sleep— in 
youf own bed.” 

“I haven’t worked so hard since 
I was in the army. That bed will 
feel good,” I agreed. 


Upstairs my wife fluffed my 
pillow and straightened the bed- 
clothes. “Now,” she said. “I’m go- 
ing to bring you a glass of warm 
milk.” 

“Isn’t there any beer?” 

“At this hour?” 

I looked at my watch — it was one 
o’clock. 

I got up, went downstairs, and 
opened a can of beer. 


################ 


Master Plan 

Our ii-year-old Boy Scout returned from an overnight winter camping 
trip cold, sleepy and reeking of wood smoke. As he was telling us about 
the trip, he mentioned that, when it started to snow, the scoutmaster 
had retired to a near-by farmhouse, saying he had trouble with his teeth. 

“What was the matter with his teeth?” my wife asked. 

“I suppose they were chattering,” said our son. -h. l k. 


Cold War 

On an autumn inspection tour of a cattle ranch the owner noticed that 
the kitchen building at one of the cow camps was in need of repair. He 
sent a load of wooden tiles with instructions to the cowboys to put the 
outside wall on in their spare time. . 

The boys postponed the unpleasant task until cold weather had arrived. 
Then, putting their heads together, they worked out how to do the job 
with the least exposure to the nasty weather. They now have what is 
probably the only cooking shed in the West that is tiled on the inside. 

— S. L. B. 

As AN example of modern luxury living, we submit the manner in 
which Harvey Spero of Milwaukee fetches his newspaper on Sunday 
mornings in winter. Putting on a dressing-gown over his pyjamas, Spero 
gets into his car in the garage, presses the button that opens the garage 
door electrically, backs down his driveway to the delivery box, runs down 
an electric window, fishes the paper out of the box, changes to forward 
gear and drives back into his garage. — d. k. g. 



One o f the best 
counler-espionage 
umpon^ is a camera 
zi'illi a telephoto lens. M 
Here is the story of 
the photographs that 
exposed an enemy 
agent at ~dvrk 






Rus^tan \pY Marlvnov waiting 
ill hi\ Madison Avenue rendezvous 


Wn O T'\ C M Oi” Q OT Tilt Bii. m.in in a dark-blue ovcr- 

k 31 lCl^Jollv/Lu w cl quietly 

* C!-»- November afternoon, backed 

i^UV ‘ig-i'iist a wall at the north-east 
-l^ d Lorncr of New York’s Madison 
Avenue and 8i)th Street. No passer-by gave him 
a second look; but from under the turned-down 
brim of his hat he eyed every man who 
appro.iched. 

His name was Maksim Martynov and he was a 
member of the Soviet group at the U.N. Military 
Staff Oommittce. He was waiting for a U.S. 
Army colonel who, he hoped, had .something to 
sell him. Martynqv glanced Jit his watch. The 
colonel was late. , 

Although passing citi7.ens did not notice him, 
the Russian was not unwatched. FBI agents with 
By Kakl Detzer field-glasses in hidden Itiok-outs studied his every 



He lonmltt “Colonel" Peck awits 

hii watch nmously m lam for the meeting 


move. Despite the failing light, they and intelligence officers told him 
photographed him at a distance of to accept. Hasty met the Russian 
more than too feet through power- at the Unknown Soldier’s Tomb in 
ful telescopic lenses. the Soviet Sector and was driven to 

The case began one August day in a private house. Luncheon was w ait- 
1954 •"'t American Headquarters in ing. Also present was a Rus.<sian 
West Merlin, (kilonel John Hasty* civilian who spoke American; he 
got a telephone call from a Soviet explained that he had once served 
officer with whom he had dined in Washington, 
two weeks earlier. The Russian con- The meal was pleasant and 
gratulated him on his forthcoming cordial. As it ended, the ho.st dis- 
rettsrn home, suggested they meet covered that there was no colTce 
for lunch in East Berlin before he and, saying that fie would get some, 
left, and also suggested they might left the house. The civilian then 
meet .again later in New York, The made guarded but unmistakable 
colonel repiirted the invitation, suggestions th.it Hast) might find it 

•N»n„s of Americn. are dU*ui..d for P'ofitablc to COntinUC thc COnVCrSa- 

'.nuriiy ^ea«on». tion at A latcr date. When Hasty did 

65 



spy Martynov 
eyes Pecky not sure . . . 


Peck swings round and walks past 
Martynov again; neither speaks 


dates. Hasty was to wear civilian 
clothes and be alone. I don’t 
meet you, someone else will,” the 
Russian said. After you have stood 
a few minutes, look at your watch. 
Someone will ask, ‘Didn’t we meet 
in^Spechstrasse, Berlin.?’ You reply, 
‘Yes, I lived at Number 19.’ Then 
you can talk freely.. We will pay 
your expenses, and also of course, 
for any information.” 

That night Hasty reported the 
conversation to intelligence officers. 
66 


The FBI found a good match for 
Hasty in agent Fred Peck. He had 
the same height and weight, the 
same colour hair and eyes, same 
ruddy complexion, long nose and 
receding chin. He was a few years 
younger and lacked Hasty’s small, 
military moustache. A make-up 
man gave him both age and mous- 
tache, and Fred Peck bought a 
tweed jacket of the kind Hasty 
wore. 

On October 15, the date for the 




SNAPSHOTS OF A RUSSIAN SPY 


iq 64 

first meeting, Peck did not appear; overcoat arrived at the corner at 3.56 
he was still doing his homework, p.m., backed against the wall and 
learning to walk and talk like waited. Watching agents recog- 
Colonel Hasty. But other agents nized him as a Soviet U.N. staff 
covered the neighbourhood. No member; one said, “This must be 
stranger took up a position at the the day. That’s Maksim Martynov.” 
north-east corner. But several men. The man was nervous, glancing at 
recognized by the FBI as Soviet his watch repeatedly. 


Martynov eyes Peck 
against the wall 

U.N. staff members, strolled about 
apparently looking over the situa- 
tion. 

By October 25, the date of the 
second rendezvous, Peck was ready. 
He went to the appointed spot, 
waited, glanced at his watch, con- 
tinued to wait. No one approached. 
But again two Russians tqpk a 
leisurely stroll up and down, glanc- 
ing at Peck each time they passed. 

On November 15, the third date, 
the tall Russian in the dark-blue 




Spy contact is established as 
Martynov says, “Afy name is Schultz* 

At 4.05, M.irtyncw stiffened as a 
taxi stopped. 

Peck got out, set his shoulders 
at a military angle, walked 
towards the waiting Russian — and 
past him. Martynov watched 
closely. When Peck swung round 
and came back, the Communist 
nearly spoke, then thought better 
of it. 

Peck now paused a dozen feet 
from Martynov, and stood there for 
several minutes. Then he stepped 

67 



THE EEADEKS DIGEST 


forward and looked at his wrist- 
watch. In his hand he carried a 
packet that could have contained 
documents. Martynov eyed it; he 
decided to take a chance. Approach- 
ing Peck he began : “Colonel, 
didn’t we meet in Spcchstrassc, 
Berlin?” 

“Yes, I lived at Number 19,” 
Peck replied. Martynov smiled and 
held out his hand. “My name is 
Schultz,” Hfc said. He suggested that 
they went for a drive, but Peck, not 
wanting to outdistance FBI men 
who would be following, said it 
would be better to walk in near-by 
Central Park. 

Martynov was loaded with ques- 
tions about military matters. Peck 
was prepared with carefully learned 
wrong answers to hundreds of ques- 
tions, truthful answers to others. 
The Russian seemed satisfied, bur 
he wanted more specific data and 
Peck promised to bring it to their 
next meeting. 

“Your expense is heavy,” the 
Communist said, slipping him a roll 
of 25 tcn-dollari^notcs. They would 
meet at the same time and place on 
January 15. 

Peck was there on time, with a 
briefcase. He again suggested a 
walk in Central Park, but this time 
Martynov refused. Instead they 
went to a quiet hotel bar and sat in a 
corner booth. Other patrons strolled 
in to distant tables and the bar. 

“Speak low,” the Russian 
warned. “Did you get what I 
need?” 

68 


“In here.” Peck touched the 
briefcase. 

“Give it to me.” But Peck de- 
layed. More patrons were coming 
in. Martynov looked at them and 
said suddenly, “I don’t like this 
place. Let us leave at once!” 

“This is for you,” Peck said, set- 
ting the briefcase on the table. It 
was a signal. Two patrons moved 
forward. They confronted Marty- 
nov, identified themselves as FBI 
men, and placed the Russian under 
arrest. 

“I am a diplomat! ” the spy cried. 
“I have immunity ! ” 

When Martynov produced his 
diplomatic credentials, there was 
nothing to do but release him. Re- 
luctantly the agents watched him 
take a bus in the direction of Soviet 
Delegation headquarters. On Feb- 
ruary 21, the State Department 
declared him persona non grata and 
he left the country five days after- 
wards. 

The long-distance camera is an 
effective weapon in the FBI. arsenal, 
and many agents are sharpshooters 
with the lens as well as the pistol. 
In the last ten years more than 30 
Soviet officials enjoying diplomatic 
immunity and American hospitality 
have been caught in acts of espion- 
age or similar activities far beyond 
the scope of their official duties. The 
telephoto lens helped to trap several 
of them. Most of the photographs 
were taken without the knowledge 
of the subjects, who rarely smile 
for this particular candid camera. 



Towards More Picturesque Speech 




icture Writing. Little hamlets going 
to sleep, window by window (Mary 
Dorsey) ... A plane winked its way 
into the airport (Marjone Campbell) . . . 
Revolving doors chopping a crowd 
into people (WiiUam Collar) ... A river 
stapled with bridges (Ed Becker) 

Word Games. Head cold: Rheum at 
the top (Jerome Beatty) . . . Tangerine: 
Loose-leaf orange (d.m.r.) . . . Cactus: 
defence plant (Jack Herbert) . , . Un- 
impeachable source : One who started 

the rumour (A1 Martino) 

Patter. Life with her’ was like being 
in a phone-box with an open umbrella 
—no matter which way you turned, 
you got it in the eye (Jean Kerr) . . . 
There’s a beauty in a stockbrok’tr’s 
office whose measurements arc 
365/^-25 Carson). . . Then 

there’s the Cleopatra cocktail — two 
drinks and you Caesar (I’om Hughes) . . . 
Teenagers are like aeroplanes. You 
only hear about the ones that crash (Aj) 

Howdy, Purdner! Nothing is as sure 
as shootin’ in a Western (Maunce Seittcr) 
. . . Title for a new Western scries: 
’*Tales of Whoa” (Demsr Lor) . . . Per- 
haps these Westerns should be live- 
including the ammunition (Earl Wiison) 
... An adult Western is one in which 
the pretty gal no longer heads off our 
hero at the pass (Wanda Cunningham) . . . 
Most television Westerns end in a four- 
gun conclusion (C. E. Kitchen) 




Sign Lines. In Scandinavian res- 
taurant in New York: “Eat like a 
Norse” ... On skindivcr’s boat: 
“Our business is going under” (Mrs. 
Albert Gnnneii) ... In insurance broker’s 
office : “Honestly, it’s thetest policy” 
(E. H Brmdic) ... In girl’s gym: “Build 
a better spouse trap” (DougMcMann) 
... At filling station on road leaving 
Las Vegas: Free aspirin and tender 
sympathy (Mrs. R. V. Smiley) ... In 
window of dramatic school: “We cure 
hams” {The English Digett) ... In book- 
shop : “Curdle up with a good murder 
mystery” 

Farts of Life. The accent may be on 
youth, but the stress is still on the 
parents (Sidney Brody) . . . Thc most for- 
tunate thing about small boys is that 
they arc washable (F. p Jones) 

Overheard. Sweet young thing at 
perfume counter : “But I don’t want 
to surrender — just negotiate” {Gaze) 

On Thin Ice. Among my favourite 
winter sports arc girls who figure- 
skate in shorts (Harold Coffin) . . . Skat- 
ing’s easy to learn. Most people pick it 
up in about 12 sittings (Bob Goddard). . . 
Nothing venture, nothing sprained 

(Kranciv Walsh) “ 

Car-toons. Comment upon viewing 
a neighbour’s new car : “How status- 
fying” (Mrs. Mark Murry) . . . Then 
there’s the new car for city driving— 
thc stationary wagon (Arnold oiaww) 

69 


The Grizzly Bear, 


Vanishing 
Giant of 
the North 

By Frank Dufresne 


I ■'HOUGH EVERY Other animal gives 
i him the right of way. the 
Grizzly Bear is not at all mellowed 
by the courtesy, tie remains the 
moodiest creature in the wilderness, 
grumpy and belligerent. Life, to 
him, is definitely on the sour side. 

Once, on Admiralty Island in 

Condensed from Alaska Sportsman 



THE GRIZZLY BEAR VANlSHmC GIANT OF THE NORTH 


south-eastern Alaska, where these 
huge predators have attained their 
largest concentration on earth, my 
binoculars framed a shaggy old 
male bear standing in a shallow 
stream which was jammed bank to 
bank with spawning salmon. His 
belly sagged with the hsh he had 
gorged. When his digestive juices 
made room for another he had only 
to lower open jaws among the 
thrashing salmon. The thought 
came to me that if I was ever going 
to observe one of these crotchety 
brutes in a contented frame of mind 
this might be the time. 

I couldn’t have been more mis- 
taken. Behind the bear on a gravel 
bar a family of bald eagles haggled 
over rag-tags of salmon he had dis- 
carded. For a while he glowered at 
the scavengers, his lips curling in ' 
mounting irritation. Then albruptly 
the morose giant erupted out of the 
river in a geyser of spray and began 
bashing right and left among the 
eagles. Easily avoiding their lum- 
bering adversary, the birds hopped 
into the air and flapped away. 

But the grizzly was by no means 
mollified. Sidling to a rotted stump 
at the water’s edge, he snuffled 
petulantly, and I saw the long hairs 
along his shoulder hump spring 
erect. Suddenly he fetched the 
stump a clout that sent a 50-pound 

Fravk Dufresna, now retired, travelled 
widely Alaska making surveys which 
formed the basis of laws to preserve the 
territory’s wildlife resources. 


chunk flying through the air. Huff- 
ing and pumng as diough in mortal 
combat, he cuffed the stump until 
there was nothing left of it. 

I turned to my companion, a 
homesteader of the area, for an 
explanation. He shrugged his 
shoulders. “Seen ’em do things like 
that lots of times,” he grunted. 
Why “That grizzly’s mad,” he de- 
clared, “because he ain’t got nothing 
to be mad about.” • 

His own kind probably gives the 
grizzly more trouble than any other 
wild beast. A male bear seldom 
reaches maturity without being 
maimed in savage fights. On the 
Alaska Peninsula overlooking the 
Bering Sea I once witnessed a bout 
between two half-ton gladiators over 
the affections of a female who 
watched as her burly lovers rose to 
their hind feet, stood breast to breast 
and belaboured each other with 
fang and claw. When at last the 
vanquished suitor staggered away, 
leaving a bloody trail, the victor 
trudged towards the female to claim 
his reward. He had paid dearly for 
the pleasure. His lower jaw hung 
broken and useless. 

Survivors of these sanguinary con- 
tests sometimes plod about the tun- 
dra like punch-drunk prizefighters, 
their massive heads covered with 
scar tissue. Teeth are shattered 
against the skulls of their oppo- 
nents. Cavities develop, raw nerves 
are exposed and toothaches plague 
them for the rest of their days. Bad 
tempered.? Who wouldn’t be.? 


7 ^ 



THE READER'S DIGEST February 


The grizzly has reigned over the 
animal kingdom in the western half 
of North America since the Ice Age. 
On Kodiak Island and adjacent 
Alaska Peninsula the male of the 
sub-species known as the “brown 
bear” is the largest of all land car- 
nivores in the world and sometimes 
exceeds half a ton in weight. 

The grizzly is one of the most 
courageous and intelligent of beasts, 
as well as«the most unpredictable. 
One afternoon 1 was crouched, 
camera in hand, behind some fallen 
logs overlooking a dry Alaskan 
creek bed much used by travelling 
bears. A huge grizzly soon ap- 
peared. As he ambled by in front of 
my hide he apparently caught my 
scent, for his gait stiffened and I saw 
the hairs on his neck rise slightly, 
then fall again. He gave no other 
sign, not even turning his head or 
quickening his pace as he moved 
round a bend and out of sight. But 
half an hour later as I rose and 
turned to leave the hide I found 
myself looking square into his eyes 
—he had circled, {iadded soundlessly 
into position behind my back and 
was watching me in dead silence. I 
saw no sign of anger: he had de- 
cided I was harmless. He had out- 
witted me and turned the tables, and 
now his upraised ears and cocked 
head were asking the question : 
“Well, how do you like being spied 
on' 

When the grizzly comes out of his 
winter den among the snowbound 
crags, his stomach shrunken by 

7 ^ 


months of fasting, he craves the 
spring tonic found in skunk-cabbage 
bulbs and hellebore shoots. But soon 
his carnivorous appetite demands 
meat, and his diet changes to 
ground squirrels and marmots, 
scooped from their runways and 
popped down like peanuts. Then he 
starts demonstrating his amazing 
skill in stalking and killing deer, 
caribou, even mountain sheep and 
goats. 

Moose venison is a special delicacy 
to the grizzly, and a sportsman who 
leaves one of these trophies un-. 
attended overnight is asking for 
trouble. It was dusk when a sports- 
man friend of mine shot his bull. 
He had barely time to field-dress 
(disembowel) the 1,500-pound ani- 
mal and walk a mile back to his 
* riverbank camp before darkness 
closed in. Next morning, as he 
approached the bull, he was struck 
down as though by a bolt of light- 
ning. The hunter dimly remembers 
the grizzly seizing him in its jaws 
and flailing him about “like a ter- 
rier shaking a rag doll.” Left for 
dead by the grizzly — his forearm 
crunched and his scalp all but torn 
away — he managed to reel back to 
his partner in camp. From his hos- 
pital bed the man made a surprising 
statement. He said he didn’t blame 
the bear. “He was only protecting 
what he thought belonged to him,” 
he explained. 

At birth the grizzly is a hairless 
little creature weighing only about 
24 ounces, the size of a skinned 



/ 96 y THE GRIZZLY BEAR. VANISHING GIANT OF THE NORTH 


rabbit. He is born in the darkness of 
the winter den while his mother is 
in a sort of twilight sleep — ^not a 
true hibernation l^cause her body 
temperature remains fairly high. 
She may have one to four cubs. 
When she leads them out into the 
May sunshine several monihs later, 
they have become roly-poly balls 
of brown fur with needle-sharp 
teeth, claws and tempers. Playful 
wrestling bouts among them have a 
way of turning into squalling slog- 
ging matches, followed by wails of 
pain as the mother cuffs them apart. 

- All that summer Mrs. Grizzly is a 
devoted parent. She even takes the 
children, now grown to 300 or 400 
pounds each, to den with her that 
autumn. But with the arrival of the 
second spring they* come to the 
crossroads. The shc-bear\s oestrus 
period, which occurs only once in 
two years, spreads its musky aroma 
for incredibly long distances to 
attract the male bears. In the roaring 
elimination bouts preceding her two 
weeks’ honeymoon with the victor, 
her yearlings arc dispersed to begin 
a life of their own. 

This is probably the most care- 
free time th« y will ever know. Andy 
Simons, a famous Alaska guide, and 
I once witnessed one of these “teen- 
agers” balancing himself like a 
tightrope walker on the crumbling 
edge of a snow cornice higji over 
our heads. Below him a melting 
snow chute sloped steeply down to 
the green tundra where Andy and I 
stood. The young bear leaped off the 


rim in a bellywhopper dive and 
came scooting dovAi the slippery 
incline like a boy on a toboggan.' 
Accelerating to dizzy speed, he 
rolled end over end to a grand finish 
no more than a few yards away. 
Without so much as a glance in our 
direction the young grizzly picked 
himself up to do it all over again. 

Andy showed no surprise. “I’ve 
seen ’em do crazier stunts than 
that,” he said. “I’ve watched a griz- 
zly swim across a lake, touch shore 
on the other side and swim right 
back again. I’ve had one follow my 
tracks for miles. He wasn’t angry, 
just curious. I’ve had one poke his 
head inside my tent and slobber on 
my face.” The veteran guide added, 
“If you know what a grizzly’s going 
to do next, you know more than 
he does.” 

Today the grizzly bear’s fate 
hangs in the balance, for he is North 
America’s No. i hunting trophy. 
He has been pushed from one 
wilderness pocket to the next until 
there arc at present no more than 
20,000 left in Aladca, and perhaps 
not more than 500 in the other 
western States. The latter are mostly 
in the national parks in Montana, 
Idaho and Wyoming, where tourists 
can sometimes see the once proud 
and respected beasts grubbing in 
garbage heaps. 'Many sub-species 
have dropped into oblivion. The 
Great Golden Bear of California is 
extinct. 

The cruellest blow dealt to the 
future of the big bears in recent 

73 



THE READER’S DIGEST 


years is the growing practice of 
hunting by aeroplanes. Small, 
manoeuvrable planes spot the help- 
less giants in the open, then land 
close by while the ‘‘sportsman’* 
makes his kill. There have been 
reports of aircraft working in 
“teams,” one plane landing the 
hunters near their quarry while the 
other stays aloft, keeping the grizzly 
in sight and directing the hunting 
party by radio. The bear hasn’t the 
slimmest chance. 

Wildlife protection groups from 
all over the world are pleading with 
Alaska to save the vanishing giants. 
The Alaska Department of Fish 
and Game has responded by declar- 
ing one of its 26 game districts out 
of bounds to air hunting, and by 
juggling the spring-season openings 
to minimize the use of ski-equipped 
planes. 

But the grizzly needs more pro- 
tection from the increasing number 
of hunters entering the Alaskan 
wilderness via new highways and 
airways. Alaska must oudaw hunt- 
ing by aircraft;* it must pass and 
enforce stricter hunting laws, or 
there will be no big bears to hunt. 


One reason why many grizzlies 
are ill-tempered is that they carry 
hunters’ bullets in their bodies or 
suffer the agony of festering 
wounds. Take the case of “Old 
Groaner.” This huge bear, who 
patrolled the Unuk River in south- 
eastern Alaska, gave vent to such 
blood-curdling roars that few 
anglers dared visit the wild valley 
for its wonderful salmon and trout 
fishing. At the first taint of human 
odour the bear would redouble its 
outbursts. 

Word spread that “Old Groaner” 
was a maniac bear, a man-killer, 
and it became a challenge among 
local hunters to sec who could slay 
the dreaded monster. Finally the 
deed was accomplished, and the 
massive skull ‘ was placed in a 
Ketchikan sporting-goods store 
window^ for all to admire. But on- 
lookers were strangely silent as 
they noted that the cranium was 
grotesquely misshapen, fractured 
and knit in a hideous deformation. 
The secret of the man-hating grizzly 
was out at last : “Old ( iroaner” had 
been living for years with a rifle slug 
embedded in his brain. 


vvYvvvyvvvv 

Stumbling Block 

^HE HEAD of an electronics company was being interviewed. “How do 
you stumble upon all these new electronic products?*’ asked the newspaper 
reporter. Pointing to a huge research building on the other side of the 
street, the executive smiled and replied, “Sec that over there? We main- 
tain a Stumbling Department for that very purpose.” — D. b. 

74 



Modern Miracles 
of the 

Masler-Builders- 

A romid-the-glohe report on some of 
today s revolutionary building methods 


By Ira Wolfert 


R udyard Kipling once wrote, 
“How very little, since 
L things were made, Things 
have altered in the building trade.” 
He should sec what builders arc 
doing today! Everywhere you look 
you can see new kinds of buildings, 
new ways of putting them up (or 
down), new tools at work. 

To observe some of the resource- 
ful methods and devices being used, 
1 have stood on pa\emcnts all over 
Europe, Canada and the United 
States. 'For wherever wagfs are 
rising and skilled labour is becom- 
ing scarce, necessity is mothering 
new inventiveness. 


In Coventry, England, I saw an 
entire 17-storey block of flats built 
at street level. I watched with 
Austrian-born, Israeli-reared Felix 
Adler, chief structural engineer for 
one of Britain's largest contractors, 
Richard Costain Ltd., developers of 
the Jackblock method of building 
skyscrapers. 

At first it seemed conventional 
enough while they dug a hole and 
put a foundation in it. But then they 
put 40 hydraulic jacks on top of the 
foundation and built the roof on top 
of them. After that, they jacked the 
loof up out of the hole and built 
the lytn storey under it, then jacked 


Condmed from BmUtng/Dengn 


75 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


that up and put the l6th storey 
under that. So it went from first to 
last, or was it from last to first? The 
entire building was, as it were, ex- 
truded from a factory at street level, 
with each floor finished, complete 
with paint and lights, before it was 
jacked up out of reach. 

One man controlled the lifting by 
synchronizing the upward thrust of 
the jacks from a basement console 
that regulated the flow of hydraulic 
fluid. Since he was in the basement 
he could not, of course, sec the 
building, but he watched the bob 
on a plumb line centred over a dot 
on top of the console. As long as the 
point of the bob remained aimed on 
the dot, he knew the building was 
going straight up. 

Now the same method may be 
used for an i8-storey building in 
Brussels, and plans for a 38-storey 
building in The Hague are under 
discussion. “Our timetable calls for 
finishing the Brussels building in 
one year,” said Adler. “If done con- 
ventional!), the job could take two.** 
Perhaps this last*things-first way of 
doing things has a limit, but Adler 
hasn’t found it yet. 

In Geneva, passers-by paid little 
attention to a huge, circular, floor- 
less garage going up in their midst 
until It began to go down to become 
a foundation for other buildings. 

As a foundation, the building had 
to fit its hole as snugly as a nail in 
a plank. So, the designers had to let 
the building make its own hole as it 
went down, the way a nail does. But 

7 ^ 


February 

they couldn't, of course, hammer 
the building in. They couldn’t even 
use the new technique of driving 
piling with sound waves (the pile, 
vibrating in tune, shudders loose 
from the grip of friction and dances 
its way down). Sound waves strong 
enough to break the grip of friction 
would crack the building. If it were 
to sink at all, it would have to be of 
its own weight as they excavated 
inside it. 

“That’s impossible,” an engineer 
said when I told him about it. 

The trick was to give the hole 
which the building was making a 
frictionless wall. This was done 
with an extraordinary new method 
of using chemical “mud,” poured 
into a space which the builders 
created by making the bottom edge 
of the garage’s walls four inches 
wider than the rest. The entire 
garage was built at street level, the 
upper floors being added only as the 
lower floors descended out of sight. 
Some 90 feet down, they stopped 
pumping mud. Mortar was then in- 
jected to expel the mud, and friction 
asserted itself, stoj)ping any further 
sinking. The seven-storey structure 
was at last where it was supposed to 
be, to provide parking for 530 cars 
and hold up seven other commer- 
cial buildings. 

This new method of using chemi- 
cal “mud” was developed bv Dr. 
Hans Lorenz, of the Technical 
University of West Berlin. This par- 
ticular mud is from the same family 
of chemicals as the bentonite mud 



MODERN MIRACLES OF THE MASTER BUILDERS 


1964 

which oilmen use to keep wells from 
caving in. When in motion, it be- 
haves like a liquid; but when it has 
to stand still it acts like a solid. 

Under the banners of Lorenz- 
licensed companies, frictionless mud 
is now flowing throughout western 
Europe. The Italian firm of else 
has combined it with a remarkable 
new deep-trenching, precision 
power-shovel that digs trenches by 
lifting earth and rock straight up 
out of the ground as an elevator 
might. The mud keeps the trench 
walls from collapsing while the 
shovel is cutting them so board- 
straight that they can he used as 
forms in which to pour concrete. 

In Pans I saw ELSE-Loreny build 
a foundation for a new block of 


luxury flats. The site was surround- 
ed by old buildings. Since the new 
building would stand higher than 
they did, its foundations had to go 
deeper. 

Normally, it could have been 
done only with underpinning to 
keep the earth beneath the old 
buildings from sliding into the ex- 
cavation. Instead, Dr. Lorenzs 
mud, poured in simultaneously as 
the shovel dug a trench around the 
site, kept the earth from sliding. 

Concrete was then pumped be- 
neath the mud, displacing it. When 
the concrete hardened in the trench 
the builders excavated the area. The 
concrete became the outside walls 
of the foundation and basement. 
“Putting a new building in among 



77 




THE READER^S DIGEST 


old ones used to be tough work,” a 
workman told me. “Now it’s sweet, 
like dropping cake into a box.” 

More significant in* the long run 
than what is going on in the base- 
ment may be what is happening on 
the roof. All over the Western world 
new warehouses, air terminals, 
auditoriums, exhibition halls and 
churches arc rising with nothing 
inside them but space. 7 ’hcrc are no 
pillars, no pbsts. The roofs arc with- 
out visible means of support. 

More responsible than anybody 
else for this development is a round, 
twinkling-cycd hS-year-old Amen 
can known to his friends, students 
and legions of disciples as “Bucky.” 
He is R. Buckminster Fuller, now 
of Southern Illinois University. 
Architect, engineer, designer, philo- 
sopher-— the only thing Fuller seems 
tc have stuck to consistently 
throughout his working life is being 
a genius. In recent years he has 
devoted most of his energies to lead- 
ing what Consulting Engineer calls 
“a one-man upriMng against con- 
ventional structural design.” 

According to Fuller, his attack on 
conventional roofs takes off from 
this well-known physical fact; A 
man who can easilv hold a pole up- 
right on the palm of his hand will 
need more strength when he tries to 
hold the same fxAc out on a slant 
or horizontally — as r(x>fs h.ive been 
held traditionally. The nearer the 
horizontal the pole gets the more 
strength is needed to support it. 

What Fuller has done, then, is to 

7 ^ 


February 

make his structure a domed one 
composed of many parts, each sup' 
porting the other in a position as 
far from the horizontal as possible. 
Fuller calls it the geodesic dome. I 
saw vast domes patterned after 
Fuller’s work protecting the radars 
of the Distant Early Warning Line 
across Canada. They were not much 
heavier than balloons; yet they were 
strong enough to shelter delicate 
electronic mccKanisms from 165- 
m.p.h. winds. 

Fuller himself has constructed, 
roofs and supporting walls of mem- 
bers in patterns so intricate that the 
Museum of Modern Art in New 
York has exhibited them like paint- 
ings by Picasso. 

The concepts which Fuller has 
evolved are going off in all kinds of 
surprising dhections in the hands of 
other architects and engineers. In 
New York 1 spoke to consulting 
engineer Thomas Kavanagh, of 
Praeger - Kavanagh - Waterbury, 
whose iSj'i-acre inverted dome for 
a radio telescope in Puerto Rico has 
just been completed His firm is also 
the consultant on ihe blueprints for 
a plastic-covered roof for the new 
air-conditioned sports stadium in 
Houston, Texas. During the design- 
ing of this roof, baseball players 
were hired to hit fl) halls as high as 
they could, while surveying instru- 
ment^ measured the altitude This 
determined that the roof would 
have to be 260 feet high at the cen- 
tre. And, without a single pillar or 
post to hold it up, it would have to 



MODERN MIRACLES OF THE MASTER-BUILDERS 


1964 

withstand the tornadoes and hurri- 
canes that sometimes afflict Texas. 
A model of the final design was sent 
to an aircraft manufacturer in St. 
Louis to be tested in a wind tunnel. 
The engineers wanted to make sure 
It wouldn’t fly away either with or 
from the stadium! 

In Pasadena, Texas, I watched a 
roof being put on a big warehouse 
of the Olin Mathieson Chemical 
Corporation. Instead of a crane, a 
helicopter was lifting the roof’s 58- 
foot-long arch sections and putting 


them delicately and precisely into 
place. It was like watching some 
strange bird fluttering back and 
forth to build a vast nest, one giant 
twig at a time. The helicopter 
accomplished in half a day what 
would have taken three weeks by 
conventional methods and saved 

10.000 dollars (Rs. 47,500) on the 

200.000 dollar (Rs. 9-5 lakhs) job. 
Not since the first skyscrapers, the 

first giant suspension Bridges, the 
first huge dams has there been such 
a revolution in the building trade. 


Party Line 

We had promised our daughter her own telephone for her 14th birth- 
day. Shortly before its installation, there were elaborate plans afoot among 
her friends. They stored up pickles, sardines and biscuits in her room. 
And they brought hair curlers, playing cards and knitting to occupy those 
who would not be on the phone. 

Then the big day arrived. At four o’clock our daughter thundered in 
from school with three excited* friends, followed a few minutes later by 
tour more. After a brief lull, three more arrived. Eventually, the last child 
dashed upstairs. 

All this confusion was suddenly followed by a great silence. I went 
upstairs to investigate and found a roomful of surprised and wide-eyed 
faces. After a distressed pause my daughter said softly, ‘Acre’s nobody 
to phone— we're all here.” —Contributed by jean George 


Self-Starters 

One extremely cold night, a man put a rug over the front of his car. 
When It started iirst go the next morning, he congratulated himself. Then 
came the realization — the car had its engine at the rear. — ap 

A MOTORIST stopped to help a woman driver who had stalled on a main 
road. He found her taking sand out of the boot of her car and sprinkling 
it round the front wheels. “It ought to go under the back wheels,” he 
said. Sneering at his stupidity, she replied, “The back wheels go round 
all right. It’s the front wheels that won’t turn.” — Af.r. 


79 




A living legend in her 
country of Brazil, 

Eunice Weaver has saved 
more than 30,000 children 
from a fearful fate 


Angel of the Ldzaros 

By yiRGINIA Prewett 


T he Brazilian rancher stood 
straddle-legged on the bank 
of ihe Amazon River tribu- 
tary, his gun loosely bolstered, his 
sunburned face grim. Over the 
years, he and the half-dozen men 
who stood near by had defied the 
lawless guns-for-hire of the cattle 
barons, the .penis of the jaguar- 
haunted forests and the rocky up 
lands. On that day in 1938 they were 
girded for a new battle 
In distant Rio de Janeiro, plans 
had been announced to establish in 
their region a shelter for children of 


lepers. The very word “leprosy” 
made these men uneasy, with its 
echoes of the ancient cry, ‘"“Un- 
clean ! ” 

Round a bend in the river came 
a boat carrying the president of the 
Federafao das Sociedades deHssis- 
tencia aos Ldzaros e Defesa Contra 
a Lepra (Federation of Societies to 
Aid Lepers and Fight Leprosy)*. 
The boat pulled in, the president 
stepped ashore, marched up to the 
leader of the men and looked him in 
the eye. Disconcerted, he retreated 
a step. This president, this enemy, 


Condensed /rom Latin Amnuan Report 


So 


ANGEL OF THE LAZAROS 


was a young woman, a very pretty 
one^ and her black eyes snapped in 
defiance. 

Nevertheless, he said gruffly that 
he and his friends would tolerate no 
home for Idzaros (lepers’) children 
in this area. “We’ll burn v down!’’ 

“If you do, we’ll build it right 
back iip again,” she retorted. She 
went on to explain something about 
leprosy (Hansen’s disease) : that it is 
not an inherited disease passed on 
inevitably from parent to child, but 
a bacteria-caused infection usually 
associated with a history of pro- 
longed contact, often beginning in 
childhocxl. She projxised to take 
disease-free children away from con- 
tagion and give them a chance to 
grow into healthy adults. 

“Hut there arc no lepers here,” 
the man said. 

“Bring canoes and come with 
me,” she replied. “Within a couple 
of 'days I’ll show you 50 families 
who have been driven into hiding 
by the disgrace of their illness. I’ll 
show you a hundred children who 
could be saved — who u/ill be 
saved!” 

Two months later, with the chil- 
drcn’ff home under construction, the 
grizzled rancher said, “She was so 
young and pretty, and so mad, I 
just had to give in.” 

This graceful, flashing-eyed 
woman named Eunice >^cav,er has 
confounded men far more formid- 
able than the ranchers. Provincial 
governors, leaders of industry, even 
presidents of Brazil have been 


forced to heed her words about this, 
the nation’s most appalling health 
problem. She goaded .ind eventually 
led the women of Brazil in a cam- 
paign that resulted in the construc- 
tion of 30 shelters in 21 states and 
two territories. Largely because of 
her federation’s work, Brazil’s ratio 
of Hansen’s disease dropped from 
four per i,0(X) population in 1931 to 
one and a half per i,(X)() in 1961. 
Her methods have becn^studied and 
adopted by most of the nations 
afflicted with the problem. If their 
records of accomplishment do not 
match Brazil’s, it is only because 
they do not have Eunice Weaver to 
lead them. 

The daughter of a father of Swiss 
descent and a Brazilian mother, 
Eunice (jabbi grew up on a fazenda, 
or farm, in Rio Grande do Sul State. 
Ragged bands of leprous outcasts, 
stoned by other beggars to keep 
them moving, roved the countryside 
crying, “Alms, for the love of 
God!” When these pitiful cries 
were heard approaching, the custom 
was to place food outside the 
fazenda walls and close the gate. 

On a spring day in 1916, when 
her aunt put out food, nine-ycar-old 
Eunice went with her — and looked 
full into the face of horror. There 
stood half a dozen creatures hardly 
recognizable as human : lepers with 
the characteristically thickened flesh 
and distorted features, some with 
crippling deformities. After a mo- 
ment of shock, Eunice found herself 
looking, irresistibly, into another 

81 



THE READER*S DIGEST February 


pair of eyes. She did not see the 
bloated face, for the grieving eyes 
somehow were familiar. 

“Rosa?” her aunt whispered. 

Tears came into the eyes looking 
back at them. Rosa Fernandes was 
a neighbour’s daughter believed to 
have committed suicide by drown- 
ing. Now she revealed that when 
she discovered she had Hansen’s 
disease she had faked the drowning 
and disappeared to join her kind. 

The band of outcasts moved on 
down the road. “God has cursed 
them,” said the aunt, pronouncing 
the age-old doom. “There is noth- 
ing we can do.” But from that 
moment Eunice saw these sufferers 
in a new light — as human beings. 

Not long after, her family sent 
her to a Methodist mission school 
in the town of Uruguaiana. There 
a young American teacher-mission- 
ary, Dr. Anderson Weaver, per- 
suaded her that God had not cursed 
the leper, that God loved the sick 
man no less than the well. Then, 
after a year, Dr. Weaver’s wife died 
and he was transferred to another 
mission school. 

Ten years later, in 1927, Eunice 
and Dr. Weaver met again. She was 
then a beautiful young woman, 
teaching preventive medicine in the 
bustling city of Sao Paulo. They 
were married shortly afterwards. 
The two became a remarkable team. 
She was the extrovert who possessed 
the thrust to drive for a goal. He 
was quiet and gentle, her refuge and 
renewal in times of discouragement. 
82 


In 1929 Dr. Weaver was invited 
to teach on the staff of a “floating 
university,” a ship that was to make 
a world tour under the sponsorship 
of New York University. In Hawaii 
Eunice visited the leprosarium on 
Molokai where Father Damien had 
worked. She learned how he had 
taken healthy children from in- 
fected parents and brought them up 
free of disease. In Calcutta and in 
the Philippine Islands she observed 
the work of pioneering doctors who 
had set up model villages for victims, 
of Hansen’s disease and were treat- 
ing them as human beings rather 
than as condemned outcasts. By the 
time she returned to Brazil, she 
knew what she herself could do. 

Her plan was to save healthy chil- 
dren of leprous parents from con- 
tamination. She decided to set up a 
nationwide network of homes — not 
called orphanages, for these children 
were not orphans, but called Edu- 
canddrios, or houses of education. 
Since such a plan required money 
and organization, Eunice began to 
write and speak, addressing herself 
primarily to Brazil’s well-to-do 
women. 

She went south, north, cast and 
west to reveal the nation’s sores 
and to shame its indifference. The 
hearts of her listeners were moved 
by what they heard, their con- 
sciences pricked by the uncom- 
promising, ugly facts she presented. 

*935 ^ modest national head- 
quarters had been opened m Rio. 
As one Educanddrio after another 



/,X>^ ANGEL OF THE LAZAROS 


began to rise, President Gctiilio 
Vargas called Eunice to the presi- 
dential palace and asked how he 
could help. ‘‘Match federal funds 
for every cruzeiro we raise volun- 
tarily, Mr. President,” she replied. 
“We ll organize a society and build 
one of oor homes in every state, 
every territory.” 

“An im[X)ssible task,” said the 
President, aWare of the vast areas 
of the country lacking even roads. 
“Why not concentrate on a few 
difficult spots and leave the rest 
until later?” . 

“Wc’ll do the impossible now,” 
Eunice W^eaver said emphatically. 

Deus quiser” murmured the 
President, “(iod willing.” 

“With God’s help!” corrected his 
visitor, rejecting Brazil’s ancient 
fatalistic phrase. 

The President looked at her 
sharply, then smiled in surrender 
an<l repeated, “With God’s help.” 

The next time the state governors 
met in Rio, President Vargas in- 
vited Senhora Weaver to address 
them. They were less than enthu- 
siastic at the prospect. She gave 
them .strr-ng meat. 

“I had a friend in your state, 
Excellency,” she said to a governor 
in the front row. “His name was 
Francisco, and he was a healthy 
little boy of eight. W’hen his parents 
were sent to hospital for leprosy, 
there was nowhere to put him so he 
went along with them. He wanted a 
bicycle more than anything else in 
the world, and I promis.:d him one 


as soon as 1 could End the mone). 
We have so many things to do with 
our money that a bicycle could not 
have priority, but in the end I bought 
one and eagerly took it to him. I was 
too late. Leprosy had left him with- 
out fingers to hold the handlebars.” 

She had similar stories for other 
governors. When slic finished speak- 
ing, they crowded round her to 
promise their help. 

As the number of BducanAdrios 
grew, they began to prove statisti- 
cally what Eunice Weaver had al- 
ways claimed, that healthy children 
taken from leprous parents would 
not develop Hansen’s disease. In 
fact the children raised in these well- 
run foster homes were freer from all 
diseases than the average Brazilian 
child. Even more important, there 
was happiness in these homes. 

In each one Dona Eunice, as she 
is lovingly called, is a familiar 
figure. She knows the name and 
history of every child, sees that they 
are treated and esteemed as indi- 
viduals. “She understands that a 
child needs self-respect,” an associ- 
ate said. “She doesn’t try to take the 
place of the missing parents, but she 
is a true and close friend.” 

When the first homes were built, 
neighbouring parents would send 
their children blocks out of the way 
to avoid passmg them. But time 
changed that. Within a few years 
the Educanddrio band would be 
playing at town fiestas, its soccer 
team would play the other schools. 
And, as the children grew up, they 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


bcgiin to marry into local families. 

The federation does not relin- 
quish its sponsorship of its wards 
until they are settled in life with 
jobs or marriage. In recent years 216 
young men and women have gradu- 
ated into the professions: dentistry, 
medicine, law, teaching. And it was 
a great day when, in 1953, the baby 
of a girl who had been brought up 
in and married from one of the 
Cducanddrihs won a prize as the 
healthiest baby in Brazil. 

Today Dona Eunice is 58, plump 
and white-haired. She suffered a 
great f)ersonal loss when her hus- 
band died in 1955. But she is still a 
dynamo. From Rio headquarters 
she averages a trip a week as she 
manages 170 federated societies, 
comprising 18,000 women and 
d(;tting Brazil from one end to the 
other. 

At the Eighth International Con- 
gress of Leprology last September in 
Rio dc Janeiro, Eunice Weaver was 
given the Damien- Dutton Award 
for her outstanding work in the field 
of leprosy by the Damien-Dutton 


Society, a Catholic religious order 
in the United States. She received 
Brazil’s Order of Merit, the first 
woman ever to be given this decora- 
tion, and she has become a living 
legend in her country. 

She counts as her greatest reward, 
however, the 2o,(XX) healthy children 
of leprous parents who have gone 
through her Educunddrios and on 
to a life far better than the average 
child of poor Brazilian parents 
could dream of. An additional 4,000 
children have been placed in 
adoptive homes, and 12,000 more 
are treated in their own homes, 
thus also escaping the fate of their 
parents. Meanwhile, in Brazil and 
in other countries where Eunice 
Weaver’s save-thc-children tech- 
niques have “been practised, the 
number of cases of Hansen’s disease 
has been substantially reduced. 

Perhaps her deepest satisfaction 
is the knowledge that her country- 
men have at last looked squarely at 
the problem of this dreadful disease 
and have decided that they arc, 
indeed, their brothers’ keepers. 



Artjelt Comments 

Ai AN art exhibition the pictures were labclleil by the artists with title 
and comments. Underneath one abstract was a sign which read: ‘‘Of 
course you could do it, too, bur would you?’^ —Mrs. j. h w. 

Picasso, usually reluctant to finish a painting, once asked a museum 
exhibiting one of his works to put a sign next to it reading, “Don’t touch. 
Painting still alive.” - - k. s. 



The miclear-test-bau agreement— whatever our 
hopes for it— does not mean the enemy has gone 
away. There is danger in false hopes and false 
assumptions 


The 

Cold War 

Isn’t 

Over 

Kv N'ln Jackson 

US Senator pom li’udiington 


W h CONJ-RONr (.ompltA 

issues today, and under- 
standably many of 
hope* for simple .mswers. So it is 
not Mirprisinj; that eonvenient but 
false assumption'* work their way 
into some people’s thinking. It is 
useful to examine the credibility of 
arr.iin assumptions about *intcr- 
n.itional affairs held by considerable 
numbers of people. 


I. There is the widespread as- 
sumption that the Chinese-Soviet 
quarrel reduces the Communist 
threat to the West. 

A Vietnamese might be [XTmitied 
some doubts. Or a Nehru. 1 behest 
that the truth may be cxactK con 
trary to the reassuring words. 

Khrushchev thinks our day has 
passed. Khrushchev and Mao ait 
not t|uarrellmg about whether to 
bury us. They arc quarrelling about 
how. It may be that Mao plans a 
i2-f(K)t grave and Khrushchev a six- 
foot one. In any e\enl, they both 
seem to have in mind a cemetery. 

The Moscow-Peking dispute is 
being played for »vcry high stakes. 
The leadership of world (aimmii 
nism is involved. So is the fate of 
men who see themselves as the loco 
motives of hislorv. Khrushchev and 

j 

Mao each desperately desires to 
show that his policy for liqiiidating 
the West is ' best, blach needs 
victories. The consequences for the 
rest of us mav well be a period of 
rising tensions and dangers, rather 
than the opposite. ' 


Cnndemrd from The New York Time\ AJanasine 



*1 . . . '.1 . . .jtlXx . 

THE READER^S DIGEST 


These days, Khrushchev's tactics 
must be tailored to take into 
account his troubles with Mao. But 
this docs not mean his objective 
of world supremacy has changed. 
Khrushchev is adept, resourceful 
and devious in his manoeuvres. We 
have seen his smiling face and his 
pounding shoe; we have seen him 
export doves of peace one month 
and nuclear missiles the next. The 
point is that whether Khrushchev is 
the jovial backslapper at a cocktail 
party or is launched on a harangue 
at the Berlin Wall, he is the same 
dangerous man. He can turn it on 
and off again in quick succession. 
We can expect that Khrushchev will 
continue to twist and, turn, thaw and 
freeze, agree and disagrec—in pur- 
suit of his ultimate aim, which he 
openly admits is to bury us. (There 
is both a .lesson of history and a 
warning for the future in Russia’s 
sudden signing of a non-aggression 
pact with Hitler.) 

2. The assumption is wide- 
spread that the Russians can be 
won over by a policy of inoffen- 
siveness. 

This is a fallacy held b\ many 
good and decent people who let 
their hearts prevail over their heads. 
We have all heard arguments that 
amount to nothing more than “if 
we trust the Communists, they will 
trust us.” We are told that the 
United States should take unilateral 
mitiauves to reduce its strength, to 
set a “good example” and quieten 
Soviet suspicions. 

86 


It is not convincing to say that it 
is impossible to know whether this 
policy will work until it is tried. 
Some experiments are best left 
undone. 

Just consider India’s experience. 
No state has tried harder than India 
to find security by a deliberate 
policy of inoffensiveness. India has 
had to learn the hard way, as have 
others, that expansionist states do 
not respect weakness. I am sure 
Nehru docs not relish this on-tlie-job 
training programme, but it may 
save others from a similar schooling.' 

All of us want peace. The debate 
is over means. The debate needs 
to receive our most thoughtful, 
honest, tough-minded attention. But 
certainly the weight of responsible 
opinion lies with preparedness com- 
bined with restraint — what Presi- 
dent Theodore Roosevelt meant 
when he advised his countrymen to 
speak softly and carry a big slick. 

I'he only way to bargain success- 
fully with expansionist states is to 
maintain the strength to make bar- 
gaining attractive to them. 

3. There is the widespread as- 
sumption that the arms race is 
leading straight to catastrophe. 

A familiar argument goes like 
this; Anns races have always led 
to war; the world is engaged in an 
arms race; therefore, wc are head- 
ing for a nuclear holcKaust.. 

Thi^ argument rings hollow. It 
was not an arms race that led to the 
Second World War. On the con- 
trary, it was the failure of the 



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THE COLD WAR ISN'T OVER 


Western democracies to prepare for 
war that led to its butbreak in 1939. 
It was Chamberlain’s failure to 
recognize the danger of a dema- 
gogue like Hitler, bent on aggres- 
sion, that led to Munich. This is the 
reason Winston Churchill has called 
the Second World War “the un- 
necessary war.” 

As I read history, international 
peace and security depend not on a 
balance of power but on a certain 
imbalance of power favourable to 
the defenders of peace—in which 
the strength of the peace keeper is 
greater than that of the' pcace- 
upscttcr. 

An expansionist nation will never 
be satisfied with this state of affairs. 
And for this reason arms control is 
difficult to achieve. . 

A would-be aggressor will not 
settle for an arms-control .igrecmcnl 
that would freeze him in a position 
of inferior power. On the ortier 
hand, an aggressor’s objectives are 
served by an agreement which 
would permit him to acquire 
superiority by stealth. 

As ft)r the second premise : What 
arms race are people talking about? 
The United States is not engaged in 
an arms race. It could, if it wanted 
to, build more weapons and build 
them faster. But its goal is not an 
unlimited buildup. Its goal— which 
should be frankly acknowledged— is 
lo create and maintain, in co-opera- 
tion with its allies, a rclation.ship of 
forces favourable to peace. The real 
njad to catastrophe would be to 


permit an unfavourable relationship 
of forces to arise. 

I believe that this is an under- 
standable position — and that the 
public utterances of American 
statesmen about defence and about 
arms control or disarmament should 
be put in this perspective. Too often, 
however, high officials speak as 
though a nuclear-test ban were man- 
kind’s last best hope, or as though 
the choice is between one more con- 
cession and Catastrophe. 

4. There is the widespread as- 
sumption that American superi- 
ority in conventional forces was 
the decisive factor in October 
1962, in the near-collision over 
Cuba. 

This is, of course, wrong, as 
ought to lie apparent. 

The strengthening of the conven- 
tional U.wS. forces, which I have 
strong!) supported, was one of the 
major accomplishments of the Ken- 
nedy administration. U.S. forces arc 
lietter balanced than they were and 
belter prepared to meet the ccuitin- 
gencies they may fAv'C- 

But the decisive factor in October 
1962 was «'///— the evidence that the 
United States was [)reparcd to take 
whatever risks were necessary to 
obtain satisfaction of its demands. It 
ma\ be that Washington did ni*l 
demand enoifgh — bur that is 
another question. Most of whal was 
asked for was obtained. And the 
reason was that Khrushchev became 
convinced America’s will was firm. 

His replv to Caimmunist (^.hincse 

89 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


criticism was as free^ of mumbo- 
jumbo as a statement could be. He 
said, “The paper tiger has nuclear 
teeth.” And when Khrushchev 
found that Americans were not as 
tolerant as he had supposed, he 
rushed to get the missiles out, as one 
observer put it, “apparently unim- 
peded with any worries about 
‘humiliation.’ ” He was clearly wor- 
ried less about his face than about 
Sis future. • 

It is important to be very clear 
about all this, for if conventional 
superiority was the decisive factor 
in Cuba, then what now defends 
Berlin ? 

The answer is that the security of 
Berlin also depends on will. I, for 
one, would not wish to convince 


Khrushchev that it was U.S. con- 
ventional superiority that was deci- 
sive in Cuba. Or so to convince 
America’s European allies. 

The Communists, by virtue of 
their geographic position, can de- 
ploy their forces to achieve conven- 
tional superiority at most points 
along their lone boundaries. What 
defers them is fear that they might 
start something bigger than they are 
prepared to risk. 

Strong conventional forces are 
needed; there is no argument about 
that. But it would be a tragic error 
to encourage the Communists to 
believe that they will meet only 
these forces so long as they restrict 
themselves to aggression wi^’h 
conventional means. 


Unhappy Returns 

Actor-manager Sir Herbert Beerhohm Tree broke the news to an author 
like this: “My dear sir: I have read your play. Oh, my dear sir 

— The Albatross Rook i»/ Kn^h^h Letter \ 


A MAGAZINE writer was cajoled into reading a manuscript written by a 
dentist. He found it hopelessly dull. Returning the manuscript to the 
dentist, he carefully began his criticism : “This may hurt a little . , 

j.c. 

In ANALYSING why a religious publication had rejected her manuscript, 
Helen Topping Miller thought perhaps it was because one of her char- 
.icters used the word “darn.” She rewrote the story, cut out the offensive 
word and sent it back to the editor with this note : “1 have cut the. ‘darn’ 
out of my story. I hope you can Uoc it now.’l 
Once again the story was returned. Tins time there was a message 
scribbled on the margin of the rejection slip : “We do not wish to appear 
irreverent, but if you cut the hell out or this story wc still could not ‘ 
use it.’ — L. A. 




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♦ * 
I Humour 
I Uniform j 

ac ale 

a e 

During the fighting in North 
Africa, a relatively green company of 
Britksh soldiers were left to defend a 
strategic hill against Rommers troops. 
By nightfall they not only had lost the 
hill, but were about to be pushed into 
the sea. To rescue them, the area com- 
mander called up a crack company of 
the Ciuards, who recaptured the hill 
and turned the positioQ back to the 
original company. 

The iollowing day Rommel counter- 
attacked and oi\cc more forced the 
defenders off the hill. Back came (he 
(juarilsmcn and again recaptured the 
hill. As the position was being turned 
( ver once more to the original defend- 
ers, the officer in command of the 
(luardsmen saluted and said to his 
embarrassed counterpart, “I say, old 
boy, I his time could I have a receipt?” 

— Stanley Varcol 

WiiFN I wiNT overseas in 1942, our 
ship seemed too dilapidated to survive 
ihe trip. But if the government felt it 
was safe, who was I to argue? That 
IS until one day on deck I overheard a 
» conversation between our mess scr- 
gc.int, a veteran of the First World 
War, and one of the ship’s crew. 

“This tub reminds me of the rusted 


old wreck they sent us overseas on 
during the last war,” said the mess 
sergeant. 

“What was her name?” asked the 
sailor. 

“The Chatcau-Thierry/’ 

The sailor paled, then said, “This u 
the Ckateau-Thterry!” — T. K. 

As POSTAL clerk for recruits taking 
basic training, 1 recently lectured them 
on the correct preparation of return 
addresses. Using as an {;x ample, a 
letter with no return address, which 
had been posted the day before, I 
asked which trainee wrote to the girl 
to whom It was addressed. 

I was ]ust as surprised as the two 
recruits who answered simultaneously, 
“Oh, that’s my girl friend !” 

— STANLh\ SlLVtHM^N 

Just back from an eight-month ^ 
Mediterranean cruise aboard a de- 
stroyer, my brother and his mates were 
recounting their adventures. Noticing 
that one who normally wore contact 
lenses had glasses on, I asked what had 
happened to his contacts. 

“I’m not sure,” he replied sheepish- 
ly, “but I think I drank them!” 

— ^D. Armstkono 

Inspections were part of the daily 
routine at our base. After a while 
the spit and polish wore off, and we 
slid through inspections. 

But when we were told of the ar- 
rival of a new colonel at headquarters, 
we put in a busy week getting our 
lockers and kit in order. Finally 
everything was ready for the colonel 
to review. 

As we stood at attention, the colonel 
flew over us in a helicopter ! — v. a 1 

9S 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


The worst part of camp was that 
feeling of complete isolation. How- 
ever, by the tenth week our company 
was allowed to buy a radio. There 
wasn’t a group of men anywhere that 
enjoyed anything more. Even when 
our sergeant warned us that we'd lose 
the set unless we passed the next 
general inspection, no one was particu 
'arly concerned. We had checked with 
regimental headquarters and knew 
that he couldn’t take the radio from us. 

Then c^e the inspection. Only 
when we failed it did we realize the 
ace the sergeant had up his siecsc. His 
never-to-be-forgotten order : “This 
company’s radio is tilthy. Take it 
apart and scrub it — Jamls Kievis 

Anxious as I was to join my hus 
band in (lermany, I dreaded my first 
plane flight, and expressed my trepida- 
tion in a letter to him. Not wanting 
me to be frightened if some small 
thing did go wrong, he wrote ba^k 
rhese cheery words: “I’ve never been 
on a plane yet when something didn't 
go wrong.” — Mrs. Rohirt Sandfrs 

Visiting my wife in the maternity 
ward at the camp hospital, I was 
amused by this y^n over the entrance: 
“Call Us Any Time Day or Night— 
We Deliver.” - A, R cjracii 

The late Alexander Woollcott went 
to France during the First World War 
as a sergeant in a Medical Corps unit 
that moved into a dismal camp near 
Lc Mans. The men lived in leaky tents 
with mud and puddles of rain uneJ^r 
their rickety beds. Woolicott was luck- 
ily transferred to the Pans office of 
the U.S. Army newspaper. The Stars 
and Stripes, a.id he spent the rest of 

94 


the war in luxurious living, dining 
nightly at the Ritz, entertaining 
friends. When the Armistice came, he 
sailed for home on a troop transport, 
where he met a comrade from the 
old medical company at Le Mans. 

“You made an awful mistake leav- 
ing our unit when you did,” the 

other soldier said. 

“Why?” Woollcott asked. 

. “The week after you left,” the 

soldier said, “they put wooden floors 
in our tents.” —Joe McCarthy 

A FiGHTFR pilot and perennial 

bachelor made his position clear to 6nc 
and all: “No matchmaking ^ I’ve 
flown high and wide for years. And 
that's the way it's going to stay. High 
and wide. And alone.” 

Then came the day he sent this 
telegram announcement to all his 
friends: “(joi shot down at 5 p.m. 
Jerry.” - -A. c 

When my sister, the mother of 

seven, married a bachelor soldier, we 
waited anxiously to see how the mar- 
riage would work. It soon became 
apparent there were two sources of 
friction : the casual ty[)c of housekeep 
ing necessitated by a large, active 
family and the prodigious amounts of 
food consumed, with constant traffic 
through the kitchen. 

My sister confided to us that her 
husband would retreat to his work- 
shop whenever he felt in danger of 
losing his temper. We all relaxed, 
however, when his finished handi- 
work was stuck up on the kitchen 
wall. A true labour of love, it was a 
large piece of wood, sandpapered and 
varnished, proclaiming in hand-carved 
letters: “the perpetual mess.”— m. k 




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The Spectacle That 
Astonished Salonika 


Jaytu Baker Spain 



I loir -in ii-iiiui-ialin 

iSirr r'orit.'n ‘U'o 
irndr - /ill)’ t'j L'iit/finf! 
•id iJ (iihifi (}/' 

rho! fJir Ihiihlu'iipjH'd 
can acfucvc 

By Don Wharton 


T hroughout the September 
beat in Greece, hxige crowds 
stood enthralled before one 
exhibit in the U.S, pavilion at 
Salonika’s 1962 Internabonal Trade 
Fair. What they watched was a 
team of three boys and a girl 
assembling a ten-foot section of a 
wheel conveyer— a chute-like device 
that moves goods and materials 
around factories and warehouses. It 
was an intricate operation, involv- 
ing fitting together 451 small parts, 
threading 50 axles through 120 
skate wheels, applying dozens of 
bolts and tightening them to an 
exact degree of tension. 

But it was something more than 
technical skill thaf fascinated the 
onlookers in the exhibit-room. The 
whispers of the crowd mounted into 
a great hum as scores of people 
turned to one another, murmuring, 
“The workers arc blind! Thcv're 
blind!” 

t 

Standing by the production line, 
intently watching both the work- 
ers and the visitors, was a slender, 
blue-eyed American woman, Jayne 
Baker Spain— the key to the whole 

Condensed from The Robrtm 


97 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


amazing spectacle. Mrs. Spain is 
president and owner of the Alvey- 
Ferguson Company in Cincinnati, 
Ohio, manufacturers of conveying 
equipment for industry. 

When a U.S. government official 
first came to Mrs. Spain with the 
thought of getting Alvcy-Fcrguson 
to exhibit at Salonika's 27th annual 
trade fair, a major event in northern 
Greece, she ' was told that the 
American theme would be “re- 
source development for a better 
life.” The theme was intended to 
cover water resources, power re- 
sources, industrial and commercial 
resources. But Mrs. Spam, thinking 
of human resources, said, “We use 
blind workers to assemble con- 
veyers.” 

So, with government approval, 
she began developing a company 
exhibit which would tell two stones 
about fuller use of national re- 
sources — one illustrating the advan- 
tages of efficient movement of 
materials; the other, the capabilities 
of disabled persons. One restriction 
made the task* more difficult: 
government policy requires all 
demonstrators in American exhibits 
at international trade fairs to be 
nationals of the host country. But 
Mrs. Spain welcomed the challenge 
of training Greek blind. 

Many company presidents would 
have turned the work over to as- 
sistants. Not Jayne Spain. Long 
active on behalf of the disabled, she 
determined to do the job herself. 
First, she mastered each step of the 
98 


February 

assembly process, going into the 
shop for practice every afternoon 
after the factory closed. Meanwhile, 
she learned some basic Greek words 
to help her in the job. 

Then, in August 1962, Mrs. 
Spain fiew to Salonika, where, at 
the Blind Institute, she met the 
students chosen for the task — four 
boys and two girls, 18 to 21 years 
old. Totally blind, they had studied 
weaving, basket-making and other 
handicrafts, but had never worked 
on anything comparable to a pro- 
duction line. 

Mrs. Spain began by telling them 
about conveyeis : how they are used 
in industry, how they are made and 
how in Cincinnati certain sections 
arc assembled by the blind. Her 
approach stressed abilities rather 
than disabilities. The reaction was 
overwhelming; the students could 
hardly believe they were to have 
this’ unique chance to show their 
countrymen what the blind can do 
—and to be paid for it. 

The little group went to the 
pavilion where an Alvcy-Fcrguson 
engineer had set up a production 
line with a moving conveyer-belt 
that would bring in component 
parts, and an overhead conveyer 
that would carry away the com- 
pleted sections. Mrs. Spain let the 
boys and girls feel their way around, 
then began the training. 

It was hot in Salonika. I’hc mer- 
cury frequently rose to 100 degrees; 
the exhibition hall had no air condi- 
tioning and the machinery created 



!()64 the spectacle THAT ASTONISHED SALONIKA 


still more heat. But the blind six 
practised uncomplainingly, concen- 
trating on the task before them. 
They were to work in relays, a team 
of four, with two as relief. Once, 
when Mrs. Spain suggested sus- 
pending practice to go outside for 
a breath of air, all six shook their 
heads; and one of the girls who 
could speak a little English, Vasiliki 
Psaltou, said, “No, we want to 
stay.’* 

The first inkling that the exhibit 
would have a smashing impact came 
the day before the opening, when 
the Press visited the fair. Fifteen 
countries had exhibitions and in the 
U.S. pavilion alone more than loo 
firms were represented, but the 
blind exhibit was the only one men- 
tioned in the Salonika newspaper. 
The conveyer assemblers made the 
headlines and a front-page picture. 
T he names of all six blind students 
were given and the newspaper re- 
ported, “They work as if they were 
not handicapped and [iroducc their 
work with excellence.” 

Next day Dcmclrios Manentis, 
minister of northern (Jrcecc, visited 
the pavilion, was moved to tears 
by the sight of the blind at work. 
The Metropolitan, His floliness 
Ponicleimon, came in his black robe 
and jewelled necklace, gave his 
formal blessing and then, in Eng- 
lish, told’ Mrs. Spain how grqteful 
he- was that thousands of Greeks 
would see what the blind could do. 
I’htit day alone, 46,322 people saw 
ibe exhibit; and they kept coming 


for three weeks, eight hours a day, 
packing the area from wall to 
workbench, listening to the nar- 
rator, watching the assembling, then 
waiting to watch the whole cycle 
again. 

Most vocal in expressing their 
gratitude were civic officials, reli- 
gious leaders and professional men 
who said that from this exhibit 
could come a new attitude towards 
the potentialities of the Mind. This 
was underlined by the reaction (jf 
thousands of farm people who came 
from the outlying villages, their 
faces deeply lined, their hands 
roughened hy years of hard work, 
and stood fascinated, doubting their 
own eyes. 

Often farm women would muster 
enough courage to speak to Mrs. 
Spain through the interpreter, tell 
her of the blind in their villages, 
then ask questions. One woman 
wanted to know whether she could 
bring in her blind daughter, 28, 
who spent her days sitting idle and 
despondent in a corner at home. 
The next Sund.iy woman came, 
bringing the daughter and a bou- 
quet of jasmine. I’hc) talked with 
Mrs. Spain, and then a few days 
later the mother returned with 
another bouquet and word that her 
daughter’s hopelessness had disap- 
peared, that she was trying to take 
part in household chores. 

Several days before the fair closed, 
the head of a Russian trade mission 
in Greece was taken through the 
U.S. building. When he reached the 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


conveyer exhibit he blandly dis- 
missed it, saying that they had 
conveyers in Russia, too. 

He was informed that he was 
missing the point : “These workers 
are blind.” The Russian snorted 
that he didn’t believe it, and pushed 
up close to the workers and stared 
at them. Then his face turned 
crimson and he stalked out of the 
room. 

To the end the blind worked tire- 
lessly, never slackening their pace 
or losing their enthusiasm. They 
insisted on working at a fast clip, 
though Mrs. Spain urged them to 
slow down. When the team was 
changed, the two giving up their 
places at the workbench would not 
leave the nxim— they sat close by so 
that if necessary a quick change 
could be made without loss of time. 

On the last day the six came bcar- 
ing gifts which they had made for 
Mrs. Spain — leather book covers, a 
basket-iike handbag, wicker trays. 
As long as she had things that they 
had made with their own hands, 
they said, she,' would remember 
them. 

But this was not the end. Mrs. 


Spain had started out with an indus- 
trial exhibit, but the human aspect 
had outshone the commercial. 
“Without words,” she says, “the ex- 
hibit told the story of what America 
is — that we care deeply about 
people, that we emphasize an 
individual’s ability rather than his 
disability, that we are not solely 
interested in profits. This is a side of 
the coin of capitalism that many do 
not know.” 

This set Mrs. Spain thinking— if 
the exhibit had so much impact. in 
a free nation, what might it have in 
a Communist nation? So she began 
planning a similar exhibit for the 
Zagreb autumn 19O3 trade fair in 
Yugoslavia, where all the Com- 
munist nations, except C'hina and 
Albania, displayed their industrial 
skills and products. 

Mrs. Spain worked with a school 
for the blind at Zagreb and her 
demonstration was seen by a million 
Yugoslavs. She believes that, while 
the commercial side of trade fairs is 
important, “we must get the other 
story across: that in a free-enter- 
pri.se society, the human being has 
supreme value.” 


-A- _A. -A- A- -A- X 


^ Scaled to Please 

C N A RECENT visit to a countiy club, I joined a conducted tour of the 
lavishly renovated quarters. In the men’s changing rooms 1 stepped on 
the scales and observed that I weighed my normal 13 st. 6 lb. I followed 
the group through the ladies rest-room and out of curiosity stepped on 
identical scales in the ladies' dressing-room. Weight — 12 st. ii lb*-w. e. n. 







’**““^ *‘*fV‘'~'‘''‘rn ‘i'* TfVofH^ 'tihr" 

**Tfc*tii » ww f iiMirl>(<ipi||i HihUn^i 

tat I iN« ^ 

aod ta «Ata MiU taV^jfiiwr 1M 

fmmUm turn h ^»r cow « i» » " 


“So You’re Kate’s Girl!’’ 



My mother iL'iinted her daughter to be a talented child 
filmstar. She got a hookworm. I wanted a demure, 
schoolmarmish mother. What I got was a flamboyant 
tomboy — but one who loved me 


B\ Jl\NMARIE COOGAN 


M y mother c(;ulcln’t stand me 
when I was little, and 1 
couldn’t* stand her. Neither 
of us was what the other would 
have chosen for a life companion. 

The mother I had in mind for 
myself was middle-aged with brown 
hair pulled back in a bun. She wf>re 
an apron, baked a lot, was serious 
and soft-s'poken, and sang hymns. 
Before her marriage ;lie had been a 
teacher or librarian. 

My real mother had left school to 
go to work and help out at home. 


She was 19 when I was born, a tall 
tomboy with flyaway blonde hair 
and the wide shoulders, narrow hips 
and long legs of an athlete— which 
she was. Her tem|x:rament was 
strictly Irish. In the grimmest cir- 
cumstances my mother could ah 
wavs find a bit of fun, and she had 
a great shout of a I, nigh that ex- 
ploded like fireworks. An invalid 
neighbour often io\d me, “1 love to 
hear your mother laugh.” That 
neighbour lived two houses away. 
Other mothers called their children 


Conden\ed from Ladies' Homa Journal 


"50 YOU'RE KATE'S GIRL!" 


home in a shaky soprano. My 
mother put two fingers to her lips 
and produced a whistle that could 
be heard in the next street. 

My mother’s idea of a good time 
was to crowd a lot of people (pre- 
fcrably relatives, of whom we had 
thousands) into our small house, 
provide drinks and cold meat, danc- 
ing in the early part of the evening, 
singing towards the end, and fun 
and jokes all night long. Far from 
being a hymn singer, ^he lullabied 
me with “Mciancholy Kaby.” As 
for my father, he seemed to think 
ever) thing about her was just per- 
fect. 

If my mother wasn't what 1 had 
in mind, I was even further from 
her ideal. 1 wasn't even the right 
sex. When I was borh, she was so 
iiKredulous to find I wasn’t a boy 
that she had to ask her sister to 
think up a name for me. She soon 
decided, however, that 1 was the 
biggest, fattest baby in the hospital 
nursery and iherehire worthwhile. 

And besides, h.iving come from a 
tamilv of ten, she anticipated other 
o|iporlunities to use all those g(K)d 
lH>ys’ n.iincs she had thought of. 
"J'hen, one year after 1 was born, 
.in emergency operation destroyed 
the possibility of her ever having 
.mother child. This explains a lot to 
me now, but all I knew then was 
that It was hard enough to be one 
ihild to m\ mother, and I just 
wasn’t up to being ten. 

Take pluck. Pluck was very im- 
[Kirtant to my mother When 1 


came home crying because someone 
had hit me, she would say, “Look, 
put up your fists like this.” 

“I can’t I ”rd wail. 

“Put up your fists,” she’d com- 
mand. I'd just wail louder. Then 
she would cock her right, ready to 
land one on me out of sheer despair. 

My mother decided that I was 
to be a beautiful, talented, rich 
singing-and-dancing child film-star. 
With pluck. So, at thre?, I was en- 
rolled in Miss La Palme’s School of 
the Dance: toe, tap b.illet and acro- 
batics. At four, I was doing so well 
that Miss La Palme used me for 
demonstrations. This was a good 
time for my mother, and she was 
busy taking me to lessons, parish- 
hall shows, women's-club recitals 
and talent nights at local theatres 

Ihit all this came to an early end. 
In my first year at school I learned 
to read. It was a heads experience, 
the key to a magic door. From the 
school reader I went on to reading 
ctreal boxes, advertisements on the 
tram, mcdicine-bottle labels. Little 
bv little, the p.iltern began to shi>w 
Itself. 

“What do you mean, ‘As soon 
as I finish this page’^ You practise 
that new dance routine now.*' 
Then, “I’m sick of having you 
hanging around that library ” 
Finally my mother came upon me, 
the night before a recital, reading 
instead of rehearsing. “Dear (kxl," 
she cried, calling on Highest 
Authority to witness, “reading ’ 
Sitting there reading ^ And that 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


Shirley Temple out there making a 
mint!” Tears filled her eyes, and 
she turned away. 

At last the ultimatum “Reading, 
or dancing lessons. What’s it going 
to be?” Her face showed hurt, 
despair and bewilderment when I 
said, “Reading.” 

That week-end she told Aunt 
Margaret, who said, “Maybe it’s for 
the best, Kate. I mean, look at her. 
She’s almost seven, skinny, two 
front teeth missing. She’s no Shir- 
ley Temple.” 

As 1 grew older, our scenes with 
shouting and crying on both sidca 
became fewer. By the time 1 had 
started secondary school Mother and 
I were even beginning to under- 
stand each other— a littic. 

Athletics were always important 
in her family. In the early 1920’s, 
when she was growing up in Phila- 
delphia, the family — ten boys and 
girls— played for \arious baseball, 
football, basketball and softball 
teams. For several years my mother 
and her sister had dominated the 
scoring columns in the women’s 
sport leagues. Whenever we were 
out with her family, some stranger 
was sure to come over and ask 
one of them, “Isn’t your name 
Dennehcy? I remember seeing you 
play ...” 

I went to an all-girl high school, 
and my mother wi s pleased when 
i made the basketball team but dis- 
mayed to learn I was a guard. 

“When are you going to play for- 
ward?” she asked. 


I answered, “Never.” 

“But, Jeanmarie, you’ll never 
score ! ” She never enjoyed the game 
quite as much after that. 

In another thing 1 was beginning 
to meet her standards: pluck. When 
1 graduated from high school I won 
a partial scholarship to college. Col- 
lege had never once crossed her 
mind. My father was in the army 
then, and my mother, to supplement 
the allowance, worked as a stitcher 
in a NMik-hindcry at a meagre 
salary. Even with my summer and 
aftcr-.school jobs, we were just 
barely managing. When 1 told her 
the news, she was speechless. 

But one day shortly afterwards 
she announced proudly, ‘ Jean- 
marie you are going to college.” 
She had got a job paying wh.it was 
a high wage for those days, cleaning 
railway carriages. It was a dirty, 
back-breaking man’s job, but she 
never complained. Partly because 1 
didn’t know what hard physical 
labour w.is, p.artly because of. her 
own attitude, 1 never questioned 
that my mother should work so 
hard for my dream. 

At college 1 made honours in mv 
studies. But this didn’t olease my 
mother .so much as when I wa.s 
chosen to attend various student 
conventions — all expenses paid. My 
mother had never been far from 
home, and it seemed very glamorous 
to her that I should be goit^ to dis 
tani places. It seemed glamorous to- 
me, too. I would board the tram 
wearing a classmate’s fur jacket. 




SEVINRUDE 


C>tnBOM)0 MARINE limfMffnONAL'NUaAUBAHAMASBRUOea aamJM^ 

los 



THE READER^S DIGEST 


another's friend’s skirt, and looking 
like one of those girls who pose for 
soft-drink ads — the kind of girl who 
has a mild, soft-spoken mother who 
before marriage had been a teacher 
or librarian. That’s how 1 looked. 

One da) when I announced a 
trip, my mother said she would be 
working in the railway yards at the 
time my train would be leaving and 
she would wave When the train 
pulled out I scanned the yard and 
at last 1 could make out a figure 
waving. It was my mother. I stood 
up and waved vigorously. But the 
sun was in her eyes and, unable to 
see, she just kept waving her hand 
slowly back and forth. I saw her: 
blonde hair pulled back in a scarf, 
thick-soled shoes, work-hardened 
hands. In mv borrowcil finerv, 
standing on the floor that could 
have been scrubbed bv m\ mother 
—all of a sudden it seemed terribly 
important that she should sec me 
and know I was answering her. I 
wMved and waved, but the small 
figure just kepi waving unsceingly 
until we were out of sight 

Tht Irish cckIc of conduct permits 
one to be flamlioyantly emotional in 
public, but in pf^ivate one’s dccjicsi 


feelings are held in strict reserve. 
Yet I know that day I could openly 
have told my mother how much I 
loved her. 

The chance never came again. 
She died a few years after I gradu- 
ated from college. Between my 
growing up and her death, how- 
ever, I came to know that it can be 
a joy to live with someone who is 
completely different from you. Wc 
could never say the words, but my 
mother knew how I felt about her; 
I knew how she felt about me. 

A few months after her death I 
was at a convention when a .stranger 
came up to me. “This may sound 
crazy,” he .said, “but is your name 
Dcnnchcy?” 

“No, but^ my mother’s was,” 1 
an.swered. 

He snapped his fingers. “So 
you’re Kales girH I haven’t seen 
her since she w'as a kid. I knew ail 
the Denneheys. Wonderful people.” 
He sh<K>k his head, smiling. 
“You’re Kate Dcnnchcy ’s girl, all 
right rd know you anywhere.” 

I laughed and said, “Tliank you 
I’hat’s the nicest thing that’s ever 
been said to me.” And I mcaiu ii 
with all my heart. 


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HEADS 

OR 

TAILS- 

WHO CALLS? 





They’re Breaking 
the Silence 
Barrier 


By Koblr'i O'HkitN 


Sezv surgical lechniques 
and new advances in 
hdhilitatmi are enabling 
thousands of sufferers 
) escape from the solitary 
confinement of deafness 



A ^JVE^ROI.I) houM'wilc li.ul 
been mildly hard of hcarinj* 
•.jiK'c the iige of 14. A couple 
of \ears ago her defective hearing 
ifHik .1 turn for the worse. ElTorls to 
use a hearing aid were unsuccessful, 
('ill oil ln»m normal communica- 
tion with friends and family, she 
tried to ad)ust herself to the strange, 
solii.ifv corihnement of the deaf. 

It was a shatteting cxpcncnc'c. 
She lived in a nightmarisn world 
"'here (icople’s lips moved, and no 


sound i.iine tortl\; where a glass 
broke silently; wTicre children's 
laughter was a noiseless grimace. 

An ear specialist diagnosed her 
trouble as otosclerosis, a common 
cause of de.ifness that results ip a 
Ixiny oscrgrowih ot the stape)>, a 
liny Ixme in the middle car. and pre- 
vents It from conducting .sound 
waves to the brain. A few' days later 
he gave the pticnt a liKal anaesthe- 
tic and performed under an o[K'rar- 
ing micro.wo}xr a simple priKcdure 


i'andenttil fwm Ttnlay's /MtA. puhItkM hy the Amtruan MtJual Inoddtrnn 



THE READER’S DIGEST 


called a stapedectomy. Deftly he 
worked loose the stapes, which the 
disease had "freaen” solid. Then he 
removed it. Finally he fixed in its 
place a stainless-steel filament one- 
Mth of an inch long, to restore 
sound conduction. The operation 
was a success. 

“It is as though I were reborn.” 
the woman told me. 

She was one of the lucky ones 
whose hearing problem can be cor- 
rected surgically. 

Many children are classified as 
dull, emotionallv disturbed or even 
mentally retarded when the tragic 
fact is that they simply cannot hear 
well. By the time parents and 
teachers learn the truth, damage to 
the children’s ears may be per- 
manent. 

Nevertheless, many who arc af- 
flicted, and parents of children 
whose hearing is impaired, have 
cause for hope. Dramatic new surgi- 
cal techniques arc being developed. 
Electronic instruments, capable of 
tests never before pt>ssible, are being 
put to use. Hearing aids are improv- 
ing. New methods of rehabilitation 
arc showing encouraging results. 
“More advances in the prevention 
and treatment of deafness have been 
scored since the war than in all pre- 
vious medical history/’ says Dr. 
John Lindsay, of the University of 
Chicago. 

Of all our sense organs, only the 
eye is as complex, as hnely balanced 
as our hearing mechanism. Many 
things can go wrong. The two 

I JO 


major types of impairment are con- 
ductive deafness and perceptive, or 
nerve, deafness. A combination of 
the two is called mixed deafness. 

Conductive deafness may be 
caused by anything that obstructs 
sound waves in the ear canal or 
deadens vibrations in the middle 
ear: excessive wax or liquid, oto- 
sderotic bone growtli, infectious 
swelling of the middle-car tissue, 
breaks in the chain of three tiny 
bones (hammer, anvil and stapes) 
along which vibrations travel. 

In nerve deafness, the outer and 
middle car function normally, but 
certain vibrations can go no farther. 
Circuits to the brain arc “out ot 
order.” What is wrong ^ Usually the 
damage is to nerve endings of the 
inner ear, fibres of the auditory 
nerve, or hearing centres of the 
brain itself. Causes include head in 
)ur;es, tumours and disc*a.scs. such 
arteriosclerosis, that affect the brain. 

Since nerve damage cannot be re- 
paired, nerve deafness presents seri- 
ous obstacles to successful medical 
or surgical treatment. But new tech- 
niques in rehabilitation arc working 
wonders, 

S(K*ciatists in the Services made 
great progress with men ( cafened 
by shellfire and explosions in the 
war. As a result of their advantcN 
m lip-rcading, speech analysis 
and auditory training, the ncrv( 
deaf today, particularly children, 
stand a better than even chance ot 
adjusting to their handicap. 

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THE READER’S DIGEST Febrmuy 


tape recordings^ cdu^donal tdevi- 
Sion— arc helping the ncrvc-dcaf 
to a better grasp of pronunciation 
and language, to a working inter- 
pretation of sounds that they can 
hear. 

What about hearing aids? They 
are an indispensable help to thou- 
sands with impaired hearing, but 
experts urge the handicapped to 
consult an ear specialist before buy- 
ing one, and to be realistic in their 
expectations. 

“Hearing aids can be a great 
lx)on, and are a major means 
of coping with hearing loss,” says 
Dr. Raymond Carhart, a noted au- 
ilioh^ist. “But they remain, after 
all, only aids. They will amplify 


sound so you can use it, but don't 
expect them to restore hearing to its 
normal in every respect.” Most 
handicapped children of average in- 
telligence can learn to use hearing 
aids if they are fitted early enough. 
How early? Experts recommend, 
“As early as possible.” Two- and 
three-year-olds have been fitted suc- 
cessfully. 

Most dramatic have been the ad- 
vances in surgery under the opera- 
ing microscope. Today, working 
freely in the cramped galleries of the 
ear, surgeons restore hearing to 
patients once written off as hopeless. 
Two factors are largely responsible: 
development of powerful, bincxrular 
operation microscopes capable of 



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THEVRE BREAKING THE SILENCE BARRIER 


40-power magnification, and the 
imwovement of minute cutting 
tools. 

That housewife*s stapedectomy 
represents a brilliant advance in the 
combination of research and tech- 
nical skill in the fight against oto- 
sclerotic deafness. 

Ear surgeons have also developed 
a daring procedure for conductive 
deafness from causes other than 
otosclerosis. Called tympanoplasty, 
It serves a double purpose: treat- 
ment of middle-ear disease, and, 
through plastic surgery, the recon- 
struction of the delicate middle-ear 
mechanism. 

A serious and sinister cause of 
L (inductive deafness, particularly in 


children, is a chronic middle-ear and 
mastoid infection. It can be brought 
on as a complication of scarlet fever, 
measles, allergies, head colds and 
other respiratory ailments. It is fre- 
quently kindled by diseased ade^ 
noids and tonsils. The middle ear 
becomes inflamed. Its mucous- 
membrane lining swells. Infectious 
fluid collects behind the eardrum 
and eventually perforates it. 

If attended to ifnmediately, 
“chronic ear,” as it is called, can be 
controlled or cured. Neglected, it 
can smoulder for years, then sud- 
denly flare up. Meanwhile, it may 
have destroyed part or all of the 
middle car. 

Using the operating microscope, 


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THE READER'S DIGEST 

and grafting procedures recendy de- ear, nose and throat specialists 

veloped in Germany^ the ear special- to step up the attack on odier 

ist can today work complex marvels questions of vital concern to the 

of therapy in many of these cases, deaf: What causes otosclerosis? 

He drills out diseased bone and How does the inner ear transform 

tissue. If accumulated infectious sound vibrations into nerve im- 

fluid has perforated the eardrum, he pulses? What is the significance of 

can build a new one with a graft of the electrical sigr^als, or |X)tentials, 

skin from the car canal. If the ham- emitted by the inner car? 

mer, anvil or stirrup — or any combi- )lc$earchers arc tackling these 

nadon of thrm — has been destroyed, problems with high hopes of suc- 

he can often reconstruct the drum cess. What Dr. John Lindsay has 

and middle car, and restore trans- called “the terrible barrier of 

mission of sound vibration. In ex- silence” is being crossed in new and 

treme cases, where the entire chain wonderful ways. As researchers 

has been destroyed, he can some- probe more deeply into the 

dmes fashion a middle-car chamber mysteries of hearing and the mech- 

that manages without one. anism of the ear, it is certain that 

These developments encourage still greater triumphs lie ahead. 

On the Spur of the Moment 

GsoRCfE Richard Mant Hcarne used to write a weekly adventure con- 
cerning cither Sexton Blake or Robin Hood. Once, the artist who illus- 
trated his work forgot which series he was illustrating. The drawing 
made for the next week’s Robin Hood instalment showed a group of 
people sitting in the greenwood dressed in flannels and boaters fashion- 
able in 1910. Hcarne rose to the occasion and inserted a single sentence in 
his tightly-kn/ piece: **Swifdy disguising themselves in m^ern costume, 
Robin Hood and his Merry Men took counsel.” - Mnry Aihfi«hom 

In the early days of live television adventure shows, there was a sub 
marine epic featuring Captain Eddie. A studio set provided the sub’s 
interior, and to lend authenticity there were shots of the vessel on the 
ocean. These were close-ups of a toy submarine floating in a studio tank. 

One day a nature lesson preceding Captain Eddie commandeered the 
rank for a live turtle. In the confusion between shows the turtle was 
overlooked. At a imsc momcni in the serial, when the camera switched 
to a close-up of the submarine, the turtle stuck his head out of the water. 

At close range it looked like a horrible sea monster. 

Seeing this apparition; the narrator ad-libbed; “Just then the lookout 
reported that he had seen a sea serpent, but Captain Eddie said, “Such 
creatures arc mythical->thc man was t<x> imaginative!*' — M. c 

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Come Into My Garden 

In d jungle of weeds, a world of wonder 

By Rutherford Platt 

Explorer and botMM; author of "Thu Green World," "Wtldernest," etc. 

A THOUSAND Breflies over my fringes of the area I surrendered, 
garden one summer night completely worn out. There the 
sprked off an idea, and in weed patch stood— a disgrace, a blot 
the morning I rushed out to sec on respectability. 
wh.nt 1 had not seen before. Some- But why all the fireflies’ pyro- 
thing tremendous ha'd happened to technics over the garden.? In the 
my garden. morning air I s.iw that instead of a 

I'his is an .ircu which some years disgraceful weed patch, there ha<J 
.igo 1 fenced with wire to keep been bestowed on me a gorgeous, 
r.ihbits out of the vegetables. For lush jungle filled with a fanciful 
SIX years manure was dumped in menagerie. The garden had been 
and the soil deeply turned. Fat turned into a frisky free-for-all for 
.isparagus spears thrust up, runner the great joust of living. The en- 
bi-ans dangled in heavy clusters, riched soil for three years had been 
tomatoes burgeoned, cucumbers pulling like a magnet, and the 
scrambled about. Then for three countryside had showered it with 
\e<irs the garden was untended; I spores and seeds, 
was away. In the third year of This was no longer my properts 
lemaining undi.*-turbed it produced As 1 parted f^esh green goldcnrod. 
the lustiest, finest weeds on the face giant black-eyed Susans, tall hawk- 
of the earth — ^far beyond my feeble weeds and grasses, I felt like a tres- 
efforts to destroy when I came psser in a vast world inhabited b\ 
.liong with a gardening fork weeks multitudes of curious nations. From 
too late. 1 shifted to a scythe, but this the fireflies had risen---thc 
••(ter sweeping about on the night-time breath of a spot teeming 

Condemtfel fram Rwer of Life'* 



THE READERS DIGEST 


with an invisible vsealth of life. 
Every inch from the soil to the 
height of the jungle some five feet 
above the ground, was the scene of 
the fierce drive to live. The summer 
solstice — the longest days of the 
year when many kinds of wild 
flowers are blooming, was only four 
days away. 

Have you ever peered into such a 
place as my weed garden and en- 
countered its magic life ^ The spittle 
palaces of the froghopper insects 
glitter on everj' leaf. Froghoppers 
know that herbs grow fat and juicy 
so that they can stab them and 
blow bubbles — bubbles of sap are, 
for froghoppers, just as weather- 
proof and sunlight-collecting as 
glass windows. The curves of the 
bubbles act as lenses that focus the 
sunlight and give the froghopper 
eggs a warm and hospitable womb. 

Among the weeds tiny spiders 
travel up and down long, trailing 
invisible threads beneath the upper 
leaves. (They know that the weeds 
grow tall just for them to have more 
scope and play fdr their silk.) Tiny 
dies land on the sunny side of leaves 
like sparkling gold nuggets, a sort 
of sunlight version of the firefly 
sparks. Their glitter is iridescent. 
When you catch one and turn it this 
way and that, the gold becomes 
bright blue. 

Regiments of delicate little .iphids 
in green, red or rich magenta coats 
stand on their heads and kick their 
heefs in the air as aphids do. They 
know that the extra juiciness is for 

ii8 


them. They drink for days without 
moving, and they swell up like 
Chianti bottles. The aphids stand 
tilted forward, with sucking needles 
thrust in to the hilt, blissfully un- 
aware of anything except the deli- 
cious drinking. Give one of them a 
shove, up comes, his head, with- 
drawing the sucking needle, and he 
scrambles away. In so doing, he 
must stumble over his fellows, who, 
without pausing in their drinking, 
violently let go their hind legs, like 
mad mules, and literally kick the 
disturber off the reservation. 

Deep in the jungle I hear a low- 
pitched, powerful hum. The honey- 
bees have been summoned by a 
super-energetic dance and they are 
licking up the sap coating of the 
green young raspberries which the 
bees know were put there for them. 
The bees ignore all flowers and [ml 
len /ound about. For so fragrant 
sweet and moist are the stubs of 
fruit that they arc in a fren/.v. 

This tall jungle, which has risen 
out of earthworm territory in two 
months, is in no sense a pathless 
tangle. Trails and roads run through 
it. One little path runs to a rabbit’s 
nest, but the baby rabbits arc already 
reared and off to wider hor'Kons, or 
perhaps chased away. I'wilight 
Drive is a boulevard made by a 
heavy body going back and forth 
over the ground and leads fairly 
straight through the jungle . Then it 
plunges into a dark, deep wood 
chuck hole, the biggest I have seen. 
The other opening of the gre.ii 




THE READER'S DIGEST 


tunnel is about 30 fcet outside the 
fence under a dlanberry tree. 
Undoubtedly the woodchuck is 
now sleeping far underground. 

The woodchuck has two purpose- 
ful roads through the weed jungle. 
Twilight Drive leads to a sunny 
spot, but for a hot day he has also 
built a hidden path into the 
shadiest area. 1 would say that this 
woodchuck j)t this place is the most 
satisfied animal in the world, with- 
out one problem. He has a home, a 


family reared and gone, conveni- 
ences, plenty food, his ancestral 
enendes — the bear, wolf, lynx, 
panther — ^no longer about. He owns 
his place, tax-free, for a woodchuck 
knows that the soil was put there 
for him to dig in, and he knows that 
all the vegetationtenriched with so 
much live seasoning is assembled so 
thal woodchucks, who really own 
the earth, may lead delightful lives. 

Ail this is no concern of the fire- 
flies. who own the place at night. 


Pardon, Tour Slip Is Shvnving 

“Information on prices and performances of the Kingling Bros., 
Barnum and Bailey Circus is obtainable by telephone. A special lion 
has been installed for the purpose.”— From the Clorden City, I.nnK l•l*ntl, Nruidav 

“Tiifc Clifton Forge Re.scue Squad was called. to Iron Gate for 
Clarence Milton, seven, who had a possible broken leg. The squatl 
splintered his leg and removed him to the h«>spital." 

—Front the Chiton I'ornf, V'lruinio. kntrtc 

Heaiilinf. on story of jewel theft in MjUIcik Massjchusttis, News 
‘‘Salomaii sSays He Left 8,000 Kings in Malden Motel Bathtub.'* 

“Miss Avj>r\ was a noted amateur chef, .speaali/.mg in Hungarian 
ccioking. There arc no immediate survivor.s.” 

•* — From the New York Herald Tnbune 

“ ‘SiNf'i; Mik generates static electricity,* says Ma)or (kneral Howard 
Doan, U.S. Deputy Surgeon Ciencral, ‘we have to watch the kind of 
underclothing our nurses wear in ofKrrating rmims,’ ’* — From Army Ttmet 

“The HOTEi that overlooks everything.” 

— From nn ai\ in the 1 Janiluilno hotel hanilh<iok : 
by '*Peterl>oruugh*' m Dmty Telegraph, Ix>n4l(>n 

“D* Eoman, your Personal Problems consultant, lakes a much needed 
holiday this month with ‘Friend Wife.' Pray for him.” ' j^rom Cknuim Lift 

“Twenty children, the products of two ambitious recreation pro- 
grammes conducted each summer by the Department of Parks and 
Rccreatioi:, will participate in National Physical Fitness Day.’* 

— releatr from the Ijoi* Angelec C*ouiiry OrtMirtment of Pirks and Rrctratioit 


120 




All over the world British-inspired Outward Bound schools 
are giving youngsters an adventure in character-building 

^ By CHotFREY Luc\ 

I AM sl'MMFR more than ^,000 was only the foretaste of the shock 
^-^apprehensive boys in 11 treatment ahead. Among the feats 
sounlncs experienced the most they were cxpceted to p^^form- 
FnerlK)rable~and the toughest— swinging like monkeys along an 
tmir weeks in their lives. They aerial rope coiirst; strung ^5 feet 
.irriNcd with their rucksacks at such above ground, se]uirming through 
diverse places as a country house on foot'high tunnels 70 feet below 
» die edge of Dartmoor, a tented ground, sailing a three-masted 
tamp in the Rocky Mountains, a schooner in a North Sea gale, sur 
gracious mansion on (Jermany’s viving on minimum rations in the 
Baltic sca-coasl, a palm-fringed wilderness, chmbing almost to the 
heach in Malaya, an ancient castle snowy summit of Africa’s highest 
»n Holland and a former guesthouse mountain. 
ovfTlixiking a New Zealand sound. These boys were attending not 
On their first morning they were training camps for mihtarv com 
routed 6 ui of bed at dawn to take a mandos but Outward Bound 
l^risk run and a cold shower. This schools, founded and sup|H>rted b\ 

Adapted from an arncU by Lydta l^ifiener 


THE READER^S DIGEST 


educators and businessmen to build 
character through adventure. The 
youngsters, from all classes and 
races, are sent by employers, local 
authorities and parents, either as a 
mark of confidence, or in the hope 
of developing latent qualities of 
leadership and responsibility. 

Outward Bound schools all over 
the world are linked by the idea 
behind a motto — “To Serve, to 
Strive and^iot to Yield”— and by 
the dreams of a remarkable man, 
Kurt Hahn. The idea was born of 
Britain's wartime dangers. In ig4i, 
as the menace from Nazi U-boats 
grew, shipowner Lawrence Holt 
became alarmed at the number of 
seamen who died needlessly in 
emergencies. When ships were^ 
torpedoed many s.iilors in lifeboats, 
who might have survived h.id they 
continued the struggle for life, lost 
hope too soon. Some men even 
killed themselves. 

Holt chanced to meet Kurl I lahn, 
former headmaster of (jcrmanv’s 
famous Salem School. Run out of 
Germany in for his opjuisition 
to Hitler, Hahn had settled in 
Britain and founded ( Jordonstoun, 
the school in Scotland now attended 
by Prince Charles. When war came, 
Crordonstoun was evacuated to 
Aberdovey m .N(jrth Wales, and 
here Lawrence llolt and Hahn 
tried to devise some way of sieelinir 
young men against physical and 
mental defeatism. The result was 
the* Aberdovev Sea Schexd. Holt 
called it Outward Bound because its 


students were outward bound to life 
as well as to sea. “We shall train 
boys not so much for the sea,” he 
said, “as through the sea.” 

The experiment worked : appren- 
tice seamen who had taken the 
course held out against adversity 
much longer thag the others. Need- 
less loss of life dropped markedly^ 

•When the war ended, Hahn and 
Holt realized that Outward Bound 
could also serve peacetime needs. 
The idea spread rapidly. In Britain 
four more Outward Bound schrxjls 
were created, each in a setting 
guaranteed to fire the imagination 
of adventurous youngsters. One was 
on the fringes of romantic, treacher- 
ous Oartmoor, two were among the 
lakes and mountains of Cumber- 
land, the fourth was a sea school on 
Scotland s wild Moray Firth. 

In Germain, Hahn opened a sea 
rescue liaining school at Weissen- 
haus near Lubtek and another at 
Ikiad in the Ba\arian Alps. Flolland 
billowed in igfii with a sea schcMil 
on the Zeeland island of Schouwen. 

Out.side Kurcfpe, Africa Uxik the 
lead wmh a .sch<M)l at Man O’War 
Hay in thi GamercMins (now moved 
to Kurra Falls in the Plateau Pro^ 
vince of .Nigeria), another on the 
slope.s of Mount Kiliinanjaro, and 
a tliird at Mclsettcr in Southern 
Rluxlesia. Malaya built a scluxil at 
Lumut in Perak, Australia followed 
with one in the rugged bush besidt 
the I Jawkesbury River not far from 
Sydney. In the autumn of iq/bz^ 
boys began New Zealand's first 



hav. no toave and 
f retirement benefite 
, which the salaried 
people generally have** 

: A professional man — 
like a lawyer or a doc- 
tor--who IS on his own, 
will not enjoy leave with 
pay; nd^ will he have a 
provident fund or a 
pension upon which to 
^ depend after retire- 
ment Me will have to 
create, by regular and 
adequate savings 
dunng his active profe- 
ssional life, his own 
"f u n d s" — ' H o u s e 
building fund", ‘‘Retire- 
ment fund”, “Family 
Vacation fund” etc It 
IS a good idea to have 
separate Savings Bank 
Accounts for each 
purpose with THE 

BANK OF INDIA LTD 
% 

IK 

ff 

UB. 

T. D. KANSARA, 

I OwiermI Manager 



123 


« • 


LOZENGES 

SOOTHE COUGHS 


INSTANTLY 



APHALI PHARMACEUTICALS LTD. 

Station Road. Ahmodnagar 


YOUNG AbVENtU^RS OF ^OUTWARD BOUND'^ 


course in the hills and sea near 
Anakiwa, in Marlborough Sounds. 
The same year, America carved an 
Outward Bound school out of an 
aspen forest in Western Colorado, 
with the Crystal River roaring near 
the camp and a ring of :»nowcapped 
peaks rising round it. Recently the 
Peace Corps was isispircd by Out- 
ward Bound to set up a training 
programme in Puerto Rico to pre- 
pare volunteers for tests of endiir 
ance in under-developed countries. 

Outward Bound became so popii 
lar that British youth leaders asked 
for a modified course for girls. I'he 
first was held as an experiment 4I1 
Kskdale, one of the moiiniam 
schools, m Cumberland. Curls' 
courses are now offered in man\ 
countries, and a new scIukjI tor girls 
only was opened last July at Towvn 
in North Wales. 

'rhe training offers bovs all the 
adventure, challenge and excite- 
ment they can take. In return, ii 
expects self-discipline and ungrudg 
ing effort. “We teach them to 
defeat their own defeatism," savs 
Kurt Hahn. 

RecruUs do not have to be 
muscular athletes; they arc a cross 
section of typical youngsters. But 
the extraordinary results show that 
the majority of boys are capable of 
meeting the rigorous demands of 
< Outward Bound. Flabby city young- 
'‘ttrs from Umdon, Hamburg, 
Amsicrdani and Sydney discover 
that they can run ten times the dis- 
tance they thought they could, and 


carry three times the weight. They 
acquire skills they had assumed 
were well beyond their reach. 

Early last year, for example, a 
lone climber plunged 100 feet down 
the steep cast face of Hclvcllyn, 
one of England’s highest moun- 
tains. lust before dusk he was seen 
by two walkers who passed an SOS 
to the Outward Bound school al 
lllswakr. 

Within minutes a res^e team of 



/ he /’ \KMe^ (lumbnLwd, Oufu aid 
Hound mvimtam ychoul 

\ 

instructors .ind b<)\s set oil in 
Land Rover, equip|K'd wuh the ke 
a.\cs, rofX‘S, lights and focxl alwav^ 
held in readiness for emergencies. 
When the truck could climb no 
farther the tcarri set off on foot. The 
temperature was - 9 degrees C^mti- 
gradc (17 degrees F.) and an arctic 
gale drove blihding snow in their 
faces. They reached the injured 
climber just in time; he had broken 
bones and was almost dead from 


THE READER'S DIGEST 


exposure. The boys helped to revive 
him^ dressed his lacerations and 
strapped him to a ski-streteber. 
Then began the formidable journey 
down the mountainside in the dark, 
the boys often sinking to their 
thighs in drifts of powder snow as 
they struggled with the stretcher. At 
last they reached the truck, and the 
patient was rushed to hospital. 

The boys were deeply moved bv 
the cxperitnce. “I didn’t know 
had it in me,” said one. ”UntiI I 
came here I’d never even s^en a 
mountain, let alone climbed one in 
a howling blizzard and helped to 
save somebody’s life.” 

So keen is the enthusiasm of Out- 
ward Bound boys that thev ha\e 
sometimes triumphed where ex- 
perienced adult rescuers have been 
defeated. When tw'o valuable sheep- 
dogs fell over a clifT near C^adcr 
Idris, a dangerous fxak m North 
Wales, the well-trained local moun- 
tain rescue team were unable to 
reach the ledge where they lay. hire 
men with sfxcial rescue ecjuipment 
had to give up^ loo. In despair, it 
was suggested that the dogs should 
be shot tr> end their suffering. In 
stead their owner phoned Outward 
Bound at Aberdovey, a few miles 
away. 

A rc.scue team of youngsters 
arrived, eager to use their new- 
found skill in real earnest. Tw'o bc'ys 
volunteered to be lowered over the 
dangerous chff to the narrow ledge. 
They found that both dog.s had 
broken legs, but the boys coaxed 
126 


them into packs, slung them over 
their shoulders and were hauled up 
to safety. The animals recovered 
and are still working. 

The idea behind Outward Bound 
schools all over the world is the 
siime, but the course varies from 
place to place. In Malaya, Outward 
Bound takes br^s on long jungle 
treks: in Kenya the course is cli- 
maxed bv a dramatic fivc-day ex- 
pedition T9,0(K> feet up Kilimanjaro, 
Africa’s highest mountain. Austral- 
ian boys spend a total of ii da.\s 
trekking through the bush; non 
swimmers cross rivers by kicking 
their way along a ro{>e. New Zea- 
landers try to climb seven peaks- - 
the highest rising to ^,000 feet -in 
^5 hours; to supplement their 
rations they iuh for blue cod and 
hunt wild fiigs. Bovs from the 
Moray Sea Sch«K>l in Scotland cover 
up to ^f)o miles in 12 davs of sailing, 
canoeing and fiK't slogging through 
the Highlands. Fhe Dutch course 
ends with a four da \ land and sei 
journey which demands compass 
work, map reading, crioking, camp 
ing, sailing; difficult t.Lsk.s calling 
for inventivcne.ss, [x-rscver.mce and 
courage arc handed out unexpected 
ly to small groups of Ixiys. 

Samaritan services jx-rformed b\ 
the boys differ, t(X). In the develop 
ing countries, they constriuf 
bridges, show villagers how to build 
better houses, help at health centres. 
But the basis of every service is the 
concept c)f rescue. Says Kurt H ^hn 
“In active rescue work, w'c believe. 



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handloom house at Bombay, Bangalore, Madras, Calcutta, New Dc^hi. 
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TELY-SO 







YOUNG ADVENTURERS OF "OUTWARD BOUND" 


we have found the moral equivalent 
to war.” 

Genuine emergencies give the 
boys added zest for all-out effort. 
When bad weather threatened to 
ruin Schleswig-Hois;ein’s grain 
crops in SeptemW 1962, boys from 
Wcis.scnhau.s toUed in the fields, 
sometimes for 12 hours a day, until 
the harvest was in. When 
struck Australia’s Hawkesburv 
River, bds of the Outward Hound 
schcKil canoed 40 miles u|)str(..im 
and helped farmers to dig drains, 
salvage property and re-erect femes 
Last winter’s heavy snowfalls in 
Hritain gave boys at the nevonsliiri 
sch<K)l a spectactiLir chance to put 
their enthusiasm to practical use. 
Sleeping in snow-holes at night, 
they ranged the counlr\side. dig 
giiig through four fexjt drifts to get 
food to isolated farms, lugging fuel 
(HI home m.ide sledges to old [H'*»ple. 
rescuing shc*ep in day-long .sweejis 
over the snow covered nuMirs. 

At all the ( )utward Hound schools 
the oser all pur|H)Si‘ is the vime . to 
(Y|Hise as many lvl^s a.s possible t<i 
I h.illeiigi- and adventur'-. Is this Uk) 
much -or Uki dangerous’ Sir 
S()eiKei Summers, M.P., chairman 
of the Outward Hound 'IViist, 
thinks not. “We .subject boys to 
gri.iter risks than thes would nor- 
mally face, but we also teach them 
•he right attitude towards safety,” 
he says. Serious injuries arc r.irc. 
XoIkkIs' emliarks on an expedition 
belore his muscles are tuned b) 
mieivsivc training. 


Expert instructors supervise all 
activities. One safety measure they 
teach is the limit bi^ond which a 
boy cannot venture on the moun- 
tains, seas or moors. “We’re not try- 
ing to turn out he-men,” sa^s Sam 
Hayler, deputy warden of the 
Aberdovey school. “We just try to 
show each boy that he’ll overcome 
most of the obstacles in life — if he’ll 



/’.wr Outuaul Hound boys un a lkrfe-da}\ 
Uo-miU tf€k m the iMke IhstncU England 


A jiu." The^)\s ATC not lom 
against each other; they arc 
c*>m|K*iing against themselves. 

Many who attend Outward 
Bound l(K)k back on the expcnenct 
as the most jmjxirtant of their lives. 
Stammers and .stutters mav dis- 
ap{K'ar, along with psychosomatic 
a.sthma conditions. A shy apprentice 
engineer, who was incapable of put- 
ting his thoughts into words, was 
transformai bv an Outward Bound 
mountaineering course. On his re- 
turn, when he had to describe his 



THE READER’S DIGEST 


experiences to fectory executives, he 
calmly gave them the first clear, 
fluent report he had ever been able 
to make to a meeting in his life. 

“There is no question about the 
resultj — they are really remark- 
able,” says Outward Bound’s Bri- 
tish patron, the Duke of Edinburgh, 
who was himself educated by Kurt 
Hahn at Salem and Gordonstoun. 
“It is hard fo believe that such a 
complete and lasting transformation 
can be achieved in so short a time. 
But in nearly every case the cocoon 
oi youth drops away and the true 
fibre of the man emerges.” 

Perhaps the Outward Bound ex- 
perience has its most dramatic effect 
on problem youngsters. Early in the 
movement’s history, Kurt Hahn 
thought that an Outward Bound 
course might channel the abundant 
energies of the lawless young for the 
common good. (“I don’t like the 
lawless," says Hahn, “but I prefer 
them to the listless.”) 

As an experiment a few of 
Britain’s juvcnil^ delinquents from 
Borstal institutions were sent to 
Outward Bound. Responsibility as 
well as physical challenge was 
heaped on them; they were en- 
trusted with delicate rescue opera - 
tiori.s. 

Again, success was remarkable; 
youths described by Br>rstal authu 
rities as “unimpressionable” re- 
sptmded enthusiastically, and even 
emerged as trustworthy leaders. 

Says one Borstal boy who found 
his manhood as he completed the 


school’s obstacle course of expedi- 
tions, “There were moments when 
I thought I’d taken just about as 
much as I could. But then I took 
more, and each day my limit was 
extended.” By the end of the last 
arduous three-day expedition — 
through snowdrifts three times his 
own height and across an icy river 
five feet deep — ^he said : “I felt as if 
I’d just conquered a city. I’d never 
had that feeling before.” 

Outward Bound is still spreading. 
(Germany is making plans for a 
third schixil. America's Atlantic 
Foundation hopes to set up six more 
schools in the U.S.A., to operate 
throughout the year. Nigeria i' 
planning a sea schixil at Lagos, with 
a touring tcain of instructors for ad- 
venture coiifes in East and West 
Nigeria. A group of Danish biisi 
nessmen is trying to form a trust to 
start Outw.ird Bound activities in 
Scandinavia \’isitors frrim other 
countries, .iftcr seeing Outward 
Bound in action, return home filled 
with plans to give their own voung 
sters a similar chance to find their 
manhood. 

Not long ago, a young man 
turned up at Moray with his .oretty 
bride; he was on holiday from his 
job as director of an Australian film 
company, he explained. His past 
record was no secret; he Ijad come 
to Outward Bound as a Borstal boy, 
and after the course he had workcil 
his way through university. “I came 
back,” he said, “to show my wife 
where my life began.” 



want to 
own one! 



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features. You will be delighted to know 
that excellent servicing and spares are 
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prepared for carefully kept, sensitive skins Its powerful 
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the quick-wling, gentler pain balm 

AMB'JfANJAN UMTIO, MADPAi B'JMUAr 1-A.WtTA W ‘I 





After 50 years in 
show business the comedian 
with a “cathedral of a nose” 
is still the life of 
the party 

The 

Wild World 
of 

“Schnozzle” 

Durante 

Br John Rnii)> 

H t IK 'ESs’t appear on stage ; he 
prowls on like a dcmentrcl 
prrot, iKating the air with 
his arms in mock fury as if the 
world is .1 dark conspiracy against 
him. He doesn’t play the piano; he 
pounds it with the fury of a boxer 
heating a tattoo on an opponent’s 
ehin. I Ic rasps out songs in a hoarse 
hass voice, interrupting himself 



1 .If, (lulla .Slat: Ofl 
Emh Dit) M'l/h n 


with improbable comments, and in 
general de\otes himself to creating 
chaos out of order. 

I'he act IS as old hat as Buflale 
Bill’s white stetson, but the public 
shows no sign of boredom. After 
breaking up pianos and fracturing 
audiences for' over half a century, 
Jimmy "Schnoziola” Durante at 
70 is going stronger than ever. 

fnm Emptrt 





^ THE READER'S DIGEST 


Recently featured in Ac film, Ifs 
a Mad. Mad, Mad, Mad World, he 
is also a popular guest on American 
television shows, still one of the top 
nightclub acts, and he has a new hit 
record album. He remains as wild, 
indestructible and ungrammatical 
as ever. Like a good Italian Gorgon- 
zola cheese, he seems to get stronger 
and better with age. 

Durante is perhaps the best-loved 
figure in ishow business today. 
*‘And when you come neai him/* 
his late partner Lou Clayton once 
said, ‘*it's like warming your hands 
at a fire.” “There was -a peculiar 
shine to this man,” Gene Fowler 
wrote in Schnozzola, his biography 
of Durante, “and the love of him 
has lasted through the years.** Once 
when he slipped into the visitors* 
gallery of the U.S. Senate someone 
spotted his familiar profile. The 
^nators gave him a standing ova- 
tion. 

The famous team of Clayton, 
Jackson and Durante first hurst on 
the scene in the antic ’2o*s. Dancer 
Lou Clayton dit^ in 1950, but high- 
strutting singer Eddie Jackson is 
still with Jimmy. Young comedian 
5 >onny King rounds out the act. 
Helen Traubel, former Metropoli- 
tan Opera star, also teams with 
Jimmy on occasion. The first rime 
he saw the junoesque Traubel 
arrayed in armour for her role as 
Briinnhilde, Jimmy exclaimed, 
“Holy smoke I You've been 
drafted!” This improbable pair of 
singers have also made records 


together. “It is a pleasure,” Miss 
Traubel reported, “tt> record with a 
great artiste whose voice sounds the 
same with bad needles.” 

Playing the nightclub circuits in 
America, Jimmy does two rowdy^ 
knockabout acts of an hour and a 
half each night, singing, clowning 
violently and assaulting pianos. He 
perches side-saddle on the piano 
stool, his crumpled felt hat bob- 
bing in rhythm to his razzmataz 
playing, and bangs away like a 
berserk woodfiecker. 

He has only a few wisps of hair 
left, and his eyesight is not what 
it was, but he scorns glasses. “I 
don’t like wearin’ ’em,” he growls. 
“Everyone looks so much betier 
when I don’t.** 

Durante enjoys mingling with 
people. Children love him. Wher- 
ever he is, passers-by call out cheer- 
fully; ladies sometimes rush up and 
kift him. 

“Jimmy suffers from an incurable 
case of friendliness,” his friend 
Eugene Murphy says, “and he in 
fects everyone he meets.” 

In Hollyw(X)d, where stars wear 
dark glasses to keep from being 
recognized, Durante is a happy ex 
ception. Jimmy’s house, on a palm 
lined Beverly Hills street, is a mecca 
for sightseeing buses. When one 
pulls up in front, horn beeping. 
Durante often appears-- perhaps 
from the pool-side, his w*ry five 
ffx>t-scven oody clad only in baggy • 
swimming trunks, a handkenhief 
bound around his bald dome to 



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A friendly tip to the fifth man- 
Use Kolynos and smile, like the 
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CSKMPJA 



THE WILD WORLD OF •^SCHHOZZLE" DURANTE 


protect it from the sun. '‘Howya, 
folks!’* he greets them joyously. 

At home Jimmy is surrounded by 
platoons of pals — usually of lone 
standing. His friendships with Ed- 
die Cantor, Eddie Jackson and Jack 
Roth, his drummer, date back to the 
’ 20 ’s or earlier. And he is incurably 
sentimental about liis old cronies. 
When Eddie Cantor had a heaK 
attack, Jimmy visited the hospital 
every day. “1 wasn’t allowed to sec 
visitors,” Cantor says, “but Jimmy 
would come every day and just sit 
m the corridor.” 

One of the humblest of men, 
Jimmy is genuinely embarrassed by 
praise or honours. “1 don’t want no- 
lx)dy to put me on a pvedasill,” he 
once declared. He has conducted a 
lifelong battle with the English 
language and still shows no sign of 
giving cjuarler. The malaprops arc 
genuine Durante. “I never mispg-- 
nounte p(iip<»usly,” he says. “I ain’t 
phonyin’ up dem woids.” When he 
was doing his television and radio 
jirogr.immcs, writers tried to write 
garbled English. Jimmy mispriy- 
iiourued the mispronunciations. 

Eew have turned liabilities into 
.isscts with the success of Durante. 
lM)rn with a nose like a rejected 
h.mana, he made it, through good- 
natured banter, a valuable stage 
[»n)p and an object (if national affec- 
i*‘»n -his “cathedral of a nose,” one 
drama critic called it. But all 
ifirough childhood he was teased 
dviut it. (“I had a fcclin’ everybody 
w.is lookin’ at me,” he recalls. “It 


made me a shriekin’ violet.”) Once 
the scrawny Durante attacked a 
bully who had ridiculed him. He 
emerged with his Cyrano-like nose 
broken, which only detracted fur- 
ther from its aesthetic qualities. 

The unkindness he sufTered still 
colours Jimmy’s attitude towards 
the world. “1 made up my mind 
never to hurt anybody else,” he says. 
“I never make jokes about people’s 
looks, except my own.”* 

Jimmy was the youngest of four 
children of Bartolomeo Durante, 
an Italian immigrant who ran a 
barber’s shop on New York’s tough 
Lower East Side. Jimmy had to go 
to work early, and his gravel voice 
was first heard publicly hawking 
new^spapers. He never finished ele- 
mentary school, but his parents saw 
that he took piano lessons. They 
wanted him to play the classics, but 
he preferred a new kind of rhythm 
called ragtime. 

Stx)n he w^as pounding the piano 
in honky-tonks, from C'onev Island 
to Harlem. Later he teamed up with 
Clayton and JackSbn. and they 
opened their own nightclub, the 
Club Durant. They were an instant 
hit. The blase New Yorkers of tha: 
rowdy Prohibition era had never 
seen anything qyitc like the wild 
antics of the trio. 

Some of Iimmy's savings, like 
“Dem's the oondiiions that pre 
vail,” and “I’ve got a million of 

cm,” became bywords. Some of the 
songs he wrote, such as “You (lotta 
Start Off Each Day With a Song” 

^S7 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


and "Inka Dinka Doo’*arc still part 
of his act. 

From irlubs the team went on to 
great success in vaudeville and on 
the musical stage. But when Holly- 
wood beckoned, it was to Jimmy 
alone. He wanted to refuse the 
studio ofFer, but his partners urged 
him to accept. Clayton offered to go 
as his business manager, and lack- 
son to worjj: behind the scenes. “If 
you do,” said Jimmy, “you each get 
a thoid of everything." 

After more than 50 years in show 
business Jimmy remains the gentlest 
of men. He has never told an off- 
colour story. He is religious. He 
puts all women on a “pedasill.” He 
drinks only an occasional glass of 
sherry; his vices are smoking long 
black cigars and playing the ponies 
His affection for horses is as indis- 
criminate as for pec»plc, and he 
frequently bets on 
several horses in 
the same race. In 
one race he was 
heard cheer mg 
hoarsely, “C'mon, 
evcrybod\ A 
notorious soft 
touch, he over- 
looks the frailties 
of his fellow man, 
and philosophizes: 

“There are more- 
good people dan 


bad ones in the woild. I don’t mind 
if a gent scratches a match on my 
furniture, so long as he is careful to 
go wit da grain.” 

The lively septuagenarian recent- 
ly took a new lease on his personal 
life. A widower for 17 years, Jimmy 
was married ia i960 to Margie 
Little, a former show girl. In 1961 
tHcy adopted a baby, Cecilia Alicia, 
nicknamed “Cce Ccc.” 

Jimmy is devoted to his little 
daughter, and has several times 
flown across the States and back, 
between nightclub engagements. 
Just to be with his family for one 
night. 

He likes to perch the beaming 
child on one knobbly knee as he 
sits at the piano. Enclosing her tinv 
fingers in his gnarled hands, lie 
thumps the keys and croaks verse 
after verse of :i typically Durante 
lullaby, “Cce Cce, 
We I^vc Ya." 
The performarue 
usually ends uiiK 
when Margie 
wrests the tWM 
year-old from h<r 
doting fathci ' 
clasp and he mui 
ters his well worn 
line, “Everybodv s 
tryin’to get into da 
act.” It still gets j 
laugh. 





0iCfN in a doctor’s waiting room . “Please do mit remove magazines 
from the surpry. The nurse will tell you the end of the story.” -J. c. 



WONDER WORLD OF COMMUNICATION NO . 7 


The common .loney bee meilifero comnnuni cates tne 
direction of a food site te its fe'Iow wO' Uor bees by 
pel forming a dance The angle of the dance with 
»espert to the sun, fu‘'y desciibcs to the bee 
tro direction of 1h»* site 

Simple as tnis may set'in oioiOQica' comniumcai'C' has 
piovided valuable ciuos to rnod€*rn communication 
deteJ f on and nav-qation systems % 

in 

Ti>leeommnnieationit 
h iH I.TJ, 

I T I Manufactures Mam Automatic Exchanges, Rura. 

. and Private Automatic Exchanges, Intercom sets. 

Carrier telephone system V F repeaters etc , 

INDIAN TIUPHONI INDUSTRIES LTD. BANGALORE-IS. 


>39 


asp-iti-^ 


The Rewards of Caring 

The more things you care about, and the more intensely 
you feel about them, the more alive you become 


By Arihcr Gordon 


O N’CE, AS j small boy, I was 
witness to a near-tragcdy. 
At the seaside, a woman 
stepped oil a sandbar into deep, 
swift water and panicked. At least 
20 adults in bathing suits watched, 
apparently paralysed, until suddenly 
a young man ran up, plunged in 
fully clothed, and brought the 
woman out. 

As I described the epestwlc later to 
my parents, rfy admiration for the 
young man was matched by the eon 
tempt I felt for those who f.iiled to 
act. "She was drowning,” I cried, 
“and they didn’t e\cn care.” 

My father Irx^kcd at me thought- 
fully. “The world often seems 
divided between those who care and 
those who don’t tare enough,” he 
said. “But don’t judge tu) harshly. 
Ij takes courage to care greatly.” 
That phrase has stayed with me 

/fO 


through the years, because it is pro- 
foundly true. It does take courage to 
care, to fling open your heart anti 
react with sympathy or compassum 
or indignation or enthusiasm when 
It is easier— and sometimes safer 
QOt to get involved. But peo|)lc wh' 
take the risk, who deliberately dis 
card the armour of inditfereiui, 
make a trememlous discovery: //;< 
more things you care about, and the 
more intensely you tare, the mu-i 
alive you bet ome. 

If you l(K)k closely at the mars l 
bus tapestry of living, you will sec 
that the shining thrc,id of caring 
runs through it all like a streak ot 
golden fire, (firing or not caring 
can mean the ditTerciice lviwei.ii 
success and failure in a >Tia''nag(’. 
in a job, in every human relation 
ship. “Nothing great was ever 
achieved without enthusiasm,” said 


Condinsed from GutdepotU 



THE REWARDS OF CARING 



Emerson, And 
what is enthusi- 
asm but passionate 
caring? 

Even strangers 
will react to an in- 
tensity of caring. 

In London, years 
ago, a youngster* 
brought up in 
[Kiverty got a 12- 
hour-a-day job in 
a printshop that 
paid almost noth- 
ing. Passionately 
interested in books, 
but unable to buv 
anv, this boy made 
a point, on his way 

I to work each dav, 
of passing a ding\ 
second-hand lxM»k 
shop. I’here, if a 
b(K)k lay. open in 
the window, lie 
v\(puld stop and read tbe tw'o 
Msible pages. 

One day he noticed that the book 
he had scanned the day before was 
open to the next two pages. The dav 
alter that, the same thing hap[x.*ncd. 
I K read on and on, two pages a day, 
until he came to the last page. On 
lhat day the old man who ran the 
''lioj) came out and told him, with 
a smile, that he could come in and 
nad anything at an) time, with no 
“hligation to buy. So Benjamin 
l'ar)eon— who became editor of 
Zealand's first dailv news- 
P'per and, after his return t(» 


London in iS() 8 , a wrll-known 
novelist— gained access to the 
world of biK>ks. And all because 
he cared so much* about reading 
that his caring was visible to a 
kindly old man behind a dusty 
window. 

The Bible is full of the impor- 
tance of caring. I'he (lixid Samari 
tan is concerned a^bout the victim of 
the robbers, so he acts. The other 
lra\ellers, afraid lhat if lhc\ acte«l 
they might gel into trouble, “passed 
by on the other side." 

(a>nvcrsely, what got the Prodigal 
Son into trouble was not caring, lie 


THE READER'S DIGEST 


didn’t care what he did to himself, 
or how his behaviour affected 
others. But his father cared — and 
kept on caring. And this was the 
salvation of the boy, because when 
he finally hit bottom, he knew 
where to turn. “I will arise,” he 
said, “and go to my father.” 

What the Bible seems to be say- 
ing is that if you take this one 
ingredient out of life, nothing has 
much m&ning. Over and over 
again in our workaday world we 
sec how caring counts. A famous 
jeweller once sold a magniheent 
ruby after one of his salesmen had 
failed to interest the customer. 
Asked how he did it, the jeweller 
said, “My assistant is an excellent 
man, an expert on precious stones. 
There’s just one difference between 
us. He knows jewels — but 1 /ore 
them. I care what happens to them, 
who wears them. The customers 
sense this. It makes them want to 
buy — and they do.” 

In such cases, of course, caring 
ultimately brings tangible reward, 
but the great philoscjphcrs and reli- 
gious leaders have always taught 
this paradox: the most rewarding 
form of caring is caring without 
hope of reward. Fortunately for 
mankind, the world is full of peo[)le 
who go quietly through life per- 
forming, as Wordsworth put it, 
“little, nameless, • unrcmembcTcd 
acts of kindness and of love.” The 
voluntary worker at the hospital, the 
neighbour who offers to take care of 
your children while you .settle into 


a new house — such people have no 
ulterior motive and expect no re- 
compense. They act b^ause they 
care, and their actions — multiplied 
by millions— supply the force that 
keeps the human race moving 
upward from barbarism along the 
rocky path of evolution. 

Sometimes recognition comes to 
such selfless people despite then 
willingness or preference to remain 
unheralded. Surely no thought of 
public acclaim crossed the mind ot 
Dr. Frances Kelsey, of the U.S. 
Fo(xl and Drug Administration, 
when for 14 months she resoluteh 
refused to yield to the pressures ol 
representatives (if a drug company 
who wanted her to approve for 
distribution a new drug calkd 
th.ilidomide* She wms not convinced 
that it was safe, although it 
being wideU u.sed in other countries. 
As a resnlr, thr>usands of mother 
were spared the tragedv of giving 
birth to deformed children— all 
because one w'oman cared. 

'rhe capacity for c.iring is in eaJi 
of U.S, but whcllur we e\[>.ind it '»i 
let r dimmish is largely up to us 
It is not .ilwMVs s|K)ntaneo'is. 
Socrates was referring to this when 
he said, “Before a man can most* 
the w'orld, he must lirst move him- 
self.” Many great artists have served 
long and difliciill npprentice.ships 
before they Ic.irned to love wlia' 
the\ wcrccloing. Manv a [ktsoh hii' 
had to work at a fricnd.ship befort 
it became one. 

Caring can lx: bkxkcd by hahit*^ 






THE READER'S DIGEST 


of resentment or prejudice, too. A 
doctor once described a young busi- 
nessman who came to him suffering 
from insomnia, tension, irritability. 
A medical examination revealed 
nothing wrong, but when the doc- 
tor asked about the man's business 
- -shoe-manufacturing- -the patient 
flared up angrily. He hated it, he 
s;ud. He had inherited it from his 
father, and so he was stuck w'lth it. 

The doefor wrott a prescription 
to help the man to sleep. Then he 
began to talk casuallv nfxHit his 
hobb\, ancient liistorv. He had been 
putting off some research, he said, 
into the hislors of (1( ►thing, incl titl- 
ing bxitwear. Did the Kgvpnans 
intrtKluce the sandal, or was it the 
Ass\ri:ms' Perhaps, he suggested, 
his patient might know (>f some 
helfiful reference works 
Stimewhat grudginglv, the voting 
man busied himself in the librars 
and the tloti«‘i s long shot p.nd oil 
A flicker of initnsi was irouNcd, 
eventualK ir kv.un^ , sif.iJv fl.mii 
of tiifhiisia 'HI. .Uhl M ih.inged flu 
m.in\ whoii life Ht li.id ieiini id 
lUfc ab<»tir his work 

(>ne ot iht best w.ivs to iiure.ist 


your capacity for caring is to expra^j* 
what you feel. As parents we 
sometimes too quick to check our 
children's emotions. •‘Control your- 
self,” we say sternly. “Don’t give; 
way to your feelings.” Hut often 
such emotions arc simply signs of 
caring, and if we reprcs.s them too 
rclcntlessU, the capacit) for caring 
Itself may be blunted or elamaged. 

I remember once at sunset .sitting 
on a sand dune with my small 
daughter, watching the tide come 
in. Ii was a e]uiet evening, calm arid 
opalescent. The waves .sent thin 
sheets of molten gold across the dr\ 
sand, closer and closer. Finaliv, 
almost like a caress, an arm of the 
sea curled around the base of the 
dune. And mv daughter .s.iid, 
dreamilv, “Kn’t it wonderful how 
much rlie sea c.ires about the land'*' 

She wMs right, with the inkillible 
injunct of childhiKid * it u>iJ< a kind 
of taring. The* kind was mtrelv pas 
sive and so ir waited Hut the si.i 
c.ired .iihl so It lamc' The lesson 
w.is all there in fh.if l<»velv s\mlv>l 
ihi willingiuss to .Id. to .ippro.hli, 
t(» In ibsorbeU, .ind in the abv)i[' 
tion to Ix' fulfilled 


VukiT Jf orli 

^ fo icachers ai rnj mphew’s scheK»l met rcgiilarlv at each 

other s houses, osi; nsihlv to discu>s b(N>ks, jriu,i!l\ for a incndly game 
poker. When a Npui c»f-rhc moment game was organi/ctl one Fridav 
afrernoon. th< prosjHi live host asked my nephew to deliver ihc iollowing 
note to the classrooms of ihe usual participants: “ITie Men's Literary 
Society will meet lonight ai .Mr. Walker’s house. The subject under dis 
Cllssion will be Ooudhyc, Sir. (..hipy. * Cnntnhuird by Imie Snrlv\ 







fFhen the commander of the first wave of the Japanese attack 
saw his planes go in over the ships of the U.S. Navy — stiU 
sleeping in the morning sttn at Pearl Harbour — he radioed back 
to his carrier taskforce some 200 miles away: "Tora, Tora, 
Tora!” [“ Tiger y Tiger y Tiger”) — code for the news that 
complete surprise had been achieved. The attack was sure to succeed. 
The Pearl Harbour story is told in these pages as it has never 
been told Sfore. Seen through the eyes of the men who endured 
the assault, and those who made it, the blazing, searing 
action is recounted, minute by minute, bomb by bomb. Eighteen 
ships were sunk or heavily damaged that fateful day, and 
2,403 men killed. With them went an era of warfare; Pearl 
Harbour brought the end of the day of the battleship. It also 
brought Atnerica into the war and marked the beginning of 
the end of the Japanese dream of conquest. 
The first instalment of Gordon Prange’s brilliant book 
appeared in The Reader’s Digest last month. His 
dramatic narrative is the fruit of over 16 years of research. 


HE DAWN of December 7, 1941, 
revealed a day of exceptional 
splendour, even for Hawaii. In 
the awesome hush of morning 
the sunlight lay soft and golden on 
the green isle of Oahu with its bor- 
der of fine sand. At Waikiki the 
long rollers broke in creamy foam 
as Aey had since time began, and 
along the shoreline the fronds of 

Condensed from the forthcoming hook, 

146 


slim coco-palms moved gently in the 
(KTean breeze. A man abroad at that 
hour might have thanked (lod for 
simply being alive in a world which 
for a little while wore the innocent 
loveliness of Eden. 

Hut when circumstances pet 
mitted, many of the U.S. Army and 
Navy officers stationed there pre 
ferred to sleep. Despite the growing 

Toro, Tora, ToroV* by Gordon Pronge 





tension with Japan, this beautiful 
“paradise of the Pacific” still had a 
tropical, almost Polynesian rhythm, 
and, as was usual tor the week-end, 
there had been social gatherings 
throughout the U.S. military estab- 
hshment. The Sunday-morning 
hours were relished as a chance to 
set much-needed shut-eye. 

Admiral Kimmel, the able and 
energetic Commander-in-Chief of 


the U.S. Pacific Fleet, was up 
early- Abstemious by habit, and 
“Navy” from keel to mast, he de- 
voted long hours to improving the 
fighting readiness of his beloved 
ships. But this morning he had 
planned an early game of golf with 
Lieutenant-General Walter Short, 
Commander of the U.S. Army 
forces in Hawaii. The relaxation 
was well-merited. Admiral Kimmel 


147 


THE READER^S DIGEST February 


had put in a strenuous week, which 
reached a climax on Saturday with 
prolonged staff talks concerning the 
disposition of the fleet— that is, 
whether it should be kept in Pearl 
Harbour or sent to sea. 

Sizeable chunks of it were already 
ai sea as a result of the “war warn- 
ing” message received from Wash- 
ington on November 27. The next 
day a task force consisting of the 
carrier ErAcrprise, three hcav\ 
cruisers and nine destroyers had 
steamed out to deliver a shipment 
of planes to Wake Island. On 
December 5 a second task force (the 
earner Lexington, three heavy 
cruisers and rive destroyers) had 
sailed to reinforce Midw4iy with 
more planes; and yet a third task 
force had gone to [ohnslon Island, 
"00 miles south west of Oahu, for 
‘anding exercises. 

Since none of the three earners 
assigned to the Pacific was now in 
Pearl Harbour (Saratoga was just 
leaving San Diego after refitting), 
the shi[)S ih.it remained in the great 
base \\(/uld ha\c*no air co\or if the\ 
ventured out. Without this air um- 
brella they would be even more sul- 
ncrable on the high seas than thev 
W'ould be 111 port. So eventualK the 
decision had been reached : the 
ships Would remain at their 
anchorages, where thes would at 
lea.sl have the protection of the 
armv\s land-based planes. 

Qn Saturday evening Admiral 
Kimmcl, wearing civilian clothes, 
h id attended a small, informal 

f4ii 


dinner party with other top navy 
brass. Among these old friends he 
enjoyed himself in his own rather 
stately fashion, nursing his usual 
single drink. Although the other 
guests remained to play cards until 
midnight, Kimmel, true to form, 
t(X)k his leave about 9.30 and was in 
bed by ten. 

He was never to have that antici- 
pated Sunday-morning golf. Shortly 
after 7.30 a.m., as he was prepar- 
ing to leave the house, the telephone 
rang. It was Commander Vincent 
Murphy, the headquarters duty offi- 
cer, calling to report a disturbing 
occurrence. 

The destroyer Ward had con- 
tacted a strange submarine near 
Pearl Harbour and had fired on it. 
1‘his action was in accordance with 
KimmePs orders that all submarine 
sciiind contacts in adjacent waters 
should be considered hostile, and 
the site depth -ch.irged. Neverthe 
less, the incident would have to hi 
investigated and, whatever the con- 
tact prosed to lx*, it c.illcd fur Kim 
mePs [xescnce at his otlicc. He roltl 
Mur[»hy he would fx right down 

Admiral Kimmcl ordered his i.i*' 
for the five-minute drive to fle<l 
headquarters. As he was waiting hr 
It Murphv phoned again. Ward hid 
Ixcome involved in another adven 
ture, .sighting a fishing sampan 
well wnihin restricted wafers and 
escr»rt)ng u to the (bast Guard 
While the duty officer was still on 
the phone to Kimmcl, a yeom.m 
rushed into headquarters shouting 



HOLOCAUST AT PEARL HARBOUR 

that Japanese planes were attacking the running board. This was no 
^ Pearl Harbour. Though he could time to stand on ceremony. The 
scarcely believe it himself, Murphy Admiral and his hitch-hiker reached 
passed the shocking news on to CINCPAC headquarters between 
Kimmel. Aghast at the terrible 8.05 and 8.10. 
thought, Kimmel slammed down By that time the attack was roar- 
thc receiver and ducked outside to ing full-blast. Torpedo bombers 
see for himself. ^ were skimming across Pearl Har- 

For what must have been the hour almost low enough to touch, 
longest two minutes of his life, plunging their lethal torpedoes into 
Kimmel stood rooted in his garden the bowels of Kimmel’s precious 
at Makalapa 
Heights and, 
still waiting for 
his car, watched 
Japanese bomb' 
ers and fighters 
sweep over Pearl 
Harbour like 
vampire bats. He 
could scarcely 
have known it as 
he stood there 
da/.cd by pain, 
grief and horri- 
ried disbelief, but 
an age in the 
Pacific was dying 

before his eyes Kiwmel Commatuirr- I jcutcnant-f'tcnrral Walter Short 

-and with it ^ flea • C\‘n)mander,V S ArmyinHauaii 

hts protcssional 

c.ircer. The Japanese attack had bjttlcships, while dive bombers 
sounded the knell of the battleship p)iinccd like savage hawks on near- 
•ind ushered in the age of naval air b\ Hickam Field. From above, 
I'ovviT, high-level bombers rained down 

Kimmel's car now raced up, the their deadly missiles, and fighters 
|h.iutTeur braked it to a screeching wove in and out of the fearful 
h ilr, and the Admiral scrambled in, tapestry of destruction, strafing 
putting on a tie at the same time, everything in sight. . 

the car roared off, a submarine The snarl of fombs, the whine of 
'tpiadron commander jumped on to bullets, the roar of attacking planes, 

>49 



MMiroMU'nn- wipk writuA 


THE READER'S DIGEST 


the belching guns of the aroused 
defenders, which were already spit- 
ting defiance from every corner of 
Pearl Harbour, the acrid smell of 
fire and smoke — all blended into a 
nerve-racking symphony of noise 
and chaos like something out of the 
b'ackest corner of hell itself. For 
most Americans who were caught 
in the horror and bewilderment of 
the initial Japanese onslaught the 
experience was momentarily para- 
lysing. Numb and stricken, Kim- 
mel dashed into his headquarters, 
his face a mask of bleak incompre- 
hension as he tried to pull himself 
together amid the tumbling ruins of 
his world. 

Commander Logan Ramsey, oper- 
ations officer of the Naval Air Staff 
on Ford Island, was first to an- 
nounce the attack to the world. A 


Commander Logan Ramsr\ 
**Get that fellow* s number'* 



i%0 


telephoned report that a pilot had 
sighted a submarine had brought 
him to the administration building 
post-haste, and he was waiting for 
authentication of the report to order 
a general search by patrol planes. 

The Marine colour guard was just 
hoisting the Forc{ Island colours at 
reveille when Ramsey heard the 
sen^am of a plane diving over the 
statibn. Thinking it one of his own 
men, he was furious. He turned to 
the duty officer, Lieutenant Dick 
Ballinger. ‘*Dick, get that fellow *s 
number. I want to report him for 
about i6 safety violations.” 

The plane came very low, and 
both men craned out of the window 
to watch. “Did you get his num- 
ber?” Ramsey asked. 

“No,” Lieutenant Ballinger an- 
swered, “but I think It was a 
squadron commander’s plane”— 
such planes were at that time 
marked by a band of red. 

Air violations by a squadron com 
mandcr were unforgivable. “Check 
to find out which scpiadron com- 
manders arc in the air,” s*iid Ram 
scy grimly. 

“I .saw something black fall out 
of that plane,” Lieutenant Ballinger 
told him. Even as he sjx)ke, an 
explosion reverberated from the 
hangars. 

Ramsey’s face changed in swift 
compichcnsion. “That was r Jap 
plane — and a delayed-action 
bomb!” he said. 

He dashed across the corridor and 
told all the radiomen on duty to 



TIME IS THE MEASURE OF EXCELLENCE 

■ Perlection is s slow process ■ Over a hundred years ago, when the frock-coat and 
crinoline abounded in drawing rooms and the saree was draped modestly around the 
head, Finl^ fabrics were born BTime has passed. And fashions have changed But the 
quality of Finlay fabrics has remained reassuringly constant ■ Excellence does not age. 



A TRADITION IN THE MAKING 

THE FINLAY GROUP OF MILLS 


a 

leading 

table 

favourite 

Morton Full Cream 
Sweetened Condensed Milk 
has* become the hottest 
selling table-favourite in the 
market — that supply can 
hardly keep up with demand. 

This is testimony of its delicious 
flavour and rich quality. 

Manufactured in a modern 
and up-to-date plant under 
strict hygienic conditions 
Morton Condensed Milk is 
second to none. 

GET YOUR 
MONEY’S WORTH 
GET THE BEST 



Manufactured by ; 

CAE MORTON (INDIA) LTD. 


Makers of high quality confectionery and 
Condensed Milk 


February 

send out the following message in, 
plain English : air raid pearl 

HARBOUR. THIS IS NO DRILL.. 

Thus one of the most dramatic 
radio messages ever dispatched 
clicked over the air waves. Kim- 
mel’s headquarters sent off the same 
message, but the Ford Island radio 
went on the air first. So it was 
('lommander Logan Ramsey who 
sent forth the word that woke the 
United States from her long sleep. 

“Get Up! The War Is Onr . 

Lieutenant-Commander Charles 
Coe, war-plans officer for Rear- 
Admiral Bellinger’s Naval Air 
SlalT, was in bed when the attack 
began. He was debating whether to 
get up— on Sundays he usually pre- 
[Lired the family’s breakfast— when 
the noise of a dive bomber and then 
an cxpl(.)sion brought him out of bed 
<it *thc double. 

He knew almost at once what it 
was. “Get up' The war is on!’' he 
shouted to his wife. 

Flinging on a bathrobe and slip- 
[KTS, he helped to dress their young 
daughter and son, then ran with 
them to Admiral Bellinger’s home, 
where the basement, being formed 
of the sturdy foundations of an old 
fort, made an ideal bomb shelter. 
But five-year-old Chuck had no in- 
tention of missing the excitement 
by being cooped up in a cellar. 
Delighted by the dipping planes 
and super firework display going 
on, he slipped out, with his rathci 
in hut pursuit. Very fast and elusive 
^52 



as quicksilver, he had to be chased 
down while Japanese planes 
swooped and circled, machine- 
gunning the area. 

Coe eventually got Chuck inside 
the shelter again, kissed his wife 
good-bye and started for home to 
get dressed. Near his quarters he 
was suddenly imnwbilized by a ter- 
rible shuck wave as the battleship 
Arizona blew up. This indescrib- 
ably heavy movement of air was 
followed by a deafening roar, and 
superstructure parts, steel plating 
and other debris rained down on 
the lawn. One brick-size chunk of 
.irmoiir plating came through tw<i 
layers of wood in his garage and 
lodged on the bumper of his car. 
Coe was lucky to be able to report 
fur duty a few minule.s later, with a 
khaki uniform pulled on over his 
[lyiamas, and still wearing bedr(K)m 
slippcrs~but in one piece. 

The Arizona disaster completed 
the frustration of Captain ).imes 
Shoemaker, the station commander 
responsible for such housekeeping 
facilities as offices, hangars, bar- 
racks and mess halls. As he drove to 
the headquarters building, doiiging 
bomb craters right and left, he was 
stopped by the Kwk at the sea- 
plane parking apron. A day earlier 
(at the .unpleasant hour of 2 a.m.) 
the airmen who used it had been 
put through a full-scale anli-siibo- 
t.igc drill. This exercise had gone 
so smoothly that all concerned had 
congratulated themselves. 

But Captain Shoemaker now 

/ 5 ? 



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My choice 
of atpuckp 

DODGE 

of course 



Bhalya, I have been a truck operator 
long enough to know chat there 
can be no two opinions about the 
superiority of Dodge trucks. For 
instance cake Axles. A Dodge vehicle 
IS fitted with Timken axles now known as RockweiUStandard 
which have a world-wide reputation. These axles have great load 
carrying capacity and are absolutely dependable-which means a 
great deal to us truck operators. * 

There are several ocher superior features besides. Taken toge- 
ther they lead to only one conclusion, namely, that the Dodge is 
a great truck. It is great in hauling power, great In endurance, 
great in earning capacity. You'll make Dodge your truch, too. 
I am sure. 



HOLOCAUST AT PEARL HARBOUR 


faced the appalling spectacle of a 
hangar burning like a forest fire, 
and of fiercely blazing planes 
which, as protection against sabo- 
tage, had been parked wing tip to 
wing tip. 

“Pull the good planes away from 
the fire,” he ordered a petty officer 
and the few sailors who were 
around. , 

This was about all that could be 
done, for when the Ford Island fire 
brigade drove up at that moment 
they discovered th^re was no water 
pvessurt— Arizona had sunk on the 
water mains. 

The Hazards of Command 

When Kimmcl’s brilliant chief of 
staff, Captain William Smith, 
reached headquarters he found 
Rimmel watching the attack from 


the war-plans office. With htni was 
his deputy, Vice-Admiral William 
Pyc, Commander Battle Force, who 
was spattered with oil from the ill- 
fated California (having stopped to 
board her for a moment on his way 
in). Captain Smith promptly re- 
minded the two men they should 
not be together here, where a single 
blast could kill them both and leave 
the fleet without a supreme leader. 
Accordingly, Admiral •Pyc moved 
to the other end of the building. 

The communications officer, 
Commander M. E. Curts, arrived 
on the scene approximately 12 
minutes after the air raid had 
started, and joined Kimmel and 
Smith. All of them stood at the 
window following the attack as 
planes zoomed down above the 
roof, then swung out over the 


Horn hers attack^ Ford Island- a near miss beside the battleship "Oklahoma " 
(Photograph taken from a Japanese aircraft) 



THE RE.4DEJt\^ ‘DlCnST 


harbour to drop their torpedoes. 
The incessant anvil-clang of the ex- 
plosions sent up huge water-spouts 
and rolling clouds of smoke that 
rose to blot out the sky. From their 
vantage point the dhree officers 
could not sec the actual strikes, but 
speedy reports kept them abreast of 
tne action. 

They were astounded by the effec- 
tiveness of the attack, which they 
assumed w^is coming from one car- 
rier or perhaps two carriers. They 
had no way of knowing what a 
fo»-midable Japanese force lurked 
over the horizon. Many of the 
American officers testifying before 
the early investigating committees 
spoke of “the carrier.” Some men- 
tioned “carriers.” Rut that these 
whining, screaming skv demons 
were coming from not one carrier 
but six was beyond thcii wildest 
imaginings on that Sunday. 

When word came dbout the fate 
of the great battleships— the blow- 
ing up of Arizona, the capsizing of 
Oklahoma, the steady sinking of 
California— a gfoan of anguish wms 
wrung from Kimmers lips. 

Barely ten months earlier he had 
taken over the command of this 
fleet. Could it have been only ves- 
terdav morning, less than 24 hours 
ago, that he had made the decision 
to keep It’ in Pearl Harbour over 
the week-end^ Now his ships were 
bemg battered to impotcncy, and 
the sky was black from the smoke 
of ■their burning. 

In the end, Smith recalls, both he 
756 


and Kimmcl expected the results of 
the attack to be even worse than 
they were. The island air power had 
been crushed, and they could sec 
nothing to prevent all the ships in 
the base from being destroyed, plus 
the entire Navy Yard itself. 

Kimmel may have hoped for the 
chance to avenge the memory of 
this terrible day, but he must have 
known in his heart that the debacle 
foreshadowed the end of his naval 
career. This was the hazard of com- 
mand, the chance a man toc»k jn 
reaching the heights. Marshal )olTrt 
expressed it trenchanllv W’hen he 
once said that he did not know 
who was rcsjxmsible for the victor> 
at the Marne, but he knew very well 
who would have been held respon 
sible if It had been a defeat. 

Mucli as the loss of his shifts 
grieved him, w^hat really lore at 
Rimmel’s brave heart was tht 
dtfath of hi.s men. The United Stales 
lost at Pearl Harbour more lives 
than she had lost by naval action 111 
the Spanish-Amencan War and ilv 
First World War combined. Thest 
men were not neat rows of si.iiiscits 
to Kimmel He probably knev^ 
most of them bv sight, hundreds h\ 
name, and manv were his personal 
friends. And all ol them, f^-om the 
seasf)ned commanders on then 
bridges to the greenest sailors in 
the holds, were his men, his respon 
sihiliiy. 

Courts wa.s standing besuk 
Kimmcl at the window when .• 
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glass. It struck Kimmd on the chest, 
left a dark splotch on his white 
uniform, then dropped harmlessly 
to the floor. The admiral was not a 
man given to dramatics. But such 
was the depth of his sorrow and 
despair that he murmured, more to 
h’mself than to Curts, “It would 
have been merciful had it killed 
me.” 

Hour^of the Rising Sun 

The first wave of the Japanese 
attack employed 183 planes — 51 
dive bombers, 49 high-level bomb- 
ers, 40 torpedo planes and 43 
fighters. It was led b\ (Commander 
Mitsuo Fuchida, 3Q-year-old veteran 
of the war in China, a natural-born 
pilot whose warmth anJ personal 
magnetism commanded almost 
idolatrous loyalty from his men. In 
less than ten years Fuchida would 
use this abilit) to win men’s hearts 
in quite another fashion, sheathing 
his sword for ever to follow the 
Prince of Peace as a Protestant 
minister of the gospel. But on this 
Sunday morniflg his everv effort 
was bent on killing and destruction. 

By today's standards the bombers 
in Fuchida 's air armada were primi- 
tive, slow and vulnerable. They had 
a maximum speed of slightlv more 
tlian 200 m.p.h., carried one bomb 
only, and were innocent of armour 
plating or self-sealiog tanks. Bur 
they bore one supreme weapon. In 
the cockpits sat the cream of Japan's 
naval pilots- the best in the world 
on that particular morning, the 
158 


best-trained, the most combat 

experifneed. 

Such men manned the lighters, 
too, and the fabulous Zero was the 
hottest aerial package the Japanese 
produced in the war. The Zero 
carried scarcely any armour, but 
violent death blinked from the two 
ao-mm. cannon in its wings and two 
^i-y-mm. machine-guns in its nose. 
And its speed, clinib and manoeuvr- 
ability came as a nasty surprise to 
American pilots. 

Most destructive of all were the 
torpedo planes, which were com 
mandfd by Lieutenant-Commander 
vShigeharu Murata, an old C'hina 
combat hand at 32. No student, 
Murata had an unimpressive 
record at the naval academy, but 
once he began flight training he 
came nio his own. He was the per 
feet physical tyfie for a pilot— -wir\, 
graceful, lizard-quick in all his 
movements- -and he became an acc 
of aces. 

T^his swaggering little e.xtrovcn 
had imlliiiLhing nerve and -impish 
grKxl humour which bubbled out of 
him like water from a spring. He 
was to meet his death at the Batile 
of Santa Ouz Islands on ()ct(»- 
ber 2b, 1942, making one of his 
famous torpedo runs against a L^S. 
ship. But as he llew' his plane to 
Battleship Row that morning he 
had a boundless, arrogant taith in 
his ability to outface danger and do 
the job well. 

The often-rehearsed timing ut 
the attack was marred bv a sliglit 



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HOLOCAUST AT PEARL HARBOUR 


clip-up. Assured by scoui-planc re- 
ports diat the Americans were still 
ndeep, and by the Honolulu radio, 
which continued to broadcast popu- 
lar music, Fuchida bred a single 
flare to signify “surprise achieved.” 
This meant that the torpedo planes 
were to go in against the U.S. ships 
first, since they would then meet no 
opjx)sition and have targets unob- 
scured by smoke or gunfire. But one 
fighter-group leader, whose vision 
had been fleetingly obscured by a 
tloud, failed to acknowledge the 
signal, so Fuchida fired another 
flare to alert him 

Two flares was the signal that 
surprise had not been achieved — in 
which ca.se (he bombing planes 
were to attack first. Misreading 
I -uc hida ’s intention, • Lieutenant' 
('ommandcT Kakuichi lakahashi, 
the tense and eager (li\e- bombing 
leader, dashed in lo attack. Mur^ta 
knew that 'fakahashi had misinter- 
preted the signal, but since be was 
iininistakably le.iding his bombers 
ini^r I'Josition to begin their Ixjmb 
luns, Murata had no choice hut to 
• Irue his torpedi* planes !nl(» the 
warships a.s c|uickly as fxissiblc. 

In the end, the fact that the 
bombers attacked slighllv ahead of 
tin lorpedi> jJanes made little dif 
fueme. 'fhe element of surprise 
w.is so complete and so paralysing 
fli.il there was little eflcclive opfKisi- 
to either. In the perhaps two 
minutes of quiet that remained after 
flte mixed-up signals were fired and 
tKlore the first bomb was dropped, 


Fuchida seemed to sense that this 
would be so. 

For he found the island scenes 
unfolding beneath his speeding 
plane singularly reassuring. Be- 
neath him,ex[)osed U.S. fighters and 
bombers stored in neat rows along 
the airstrips like miniature battle 
toys on a nursery floor. Pearl Har- 
bour, too, lay quiet and peaceful, 
bathed in the soft colour of an ex- 
ceptionally beautiful 8awn. Over 
the whole island hung an atmo- 
sphere of Sabbath peace. 

Always on the watch for omens, 
Fuchida reflected th.it never had the 
symbolic Rising Sun appeared more 
.luspicioiis for ]apan. 

Havoc at Wheeler Field 

All 51 dive bombers and all 43 
fighters had been assigned to the 
task of destroving Hawaii’s air 
power. With split second timing 
they broke aw'av from the other 
planes and, shortly before the first 
bomb w'as clropjK'd on the ships, 
simultaneously attacked Wheeler 
Field, Hickam Field, the Naval 
Air Station on Ford Island, and 
other air installations. 

At Wheeler Field, which consii 
ruled the most dangerous nest of 
U.S. fighters (more than twice the 
numbei Fuchida mustered, diMclcd 
between P-4o’s and P-36’s), the 
commanding oflicer, CxDloncl Wil 
ham Fl(X)d, had taken practical 
measures to protect his planes. He 
had rushed the building of more 
than 100 U-shaped earth bunkers. 



THE READER’S DIGEST 


about ten ^eet high, in which to 
disperse them. But this morning, 
despite Flood’s uneasy protests, the 
planes were not in tibeir bunkers. 
Instead, at the prompting of Gen- 
eral Short, who was haunted by 
fearsof sabotagefrom local Japanese, 
they were lined up m neat rows 
in front of their hangars and sur- 
rounded by a heavy armed guard. 

It w'as alqjost eight o’clock when 
25 screaming dive bombers swcxDped 
down on Wheeler Field, dropped 
their lethal eggs, then circled and 
returned to strafe the massed 
planes, the hangars and barracks. 
Zeros joined the bombers and to- 
gether they proceeded to tear the 
base apart, sometimes fl\ing so 
low that the Japanese pilots later 
found scraps of installation wires 
wrapped around their landing gear. 

Almost as soon as one of 
Wheeler’s planes was hit, it became 
a fountain of flame. Then the craft 
next to it would ignite and blaze 
away until the whole area in front 
of the hantjars seemed like a flow- 
ing ri\er of fire. 

Surprise attack or not, most of 
the Japanese pilots had expected 
they would be rising straight to 
their doom. Like man\ f»f his com- 
rades, Lieutenant Tamotsu Ema, 
28-ycar-old dive-bomber pilot from 
the carrier Zuikal^u, had writren 
out his will the evening Ix’fore. He 
scarcely expected to sec hi.s prettv 
young wife and month-old daughter 
again. 7 ’his was his first combat ex- 
fwience, and he had pictured the 
162 


air filled with piercing flak and 
buzzing with American fighter-in- 
terceptors. As he flew over the tar- 
get he found his easy access to it 
hard to believe. There were no U.S. 
planes in the sky, and little ack-ack. 
Although some of the dive bombers 
returned to strafe.four or five times, 
not one was shot down over 
Wheeler Field. “It was more like .a 
practice run than actual combat,” 
Lieutenant Ema said. 

Brigadier - General Howard 
Davidson, the big, good-looking 
Texan who commanded the 14th 
Pursuit Wing, was in his bathroom 
shaving when the bombs began fall- 
ing. He rushed outside, saw the 
Japanese planes ripping Wheeler 
Field apart, and was horrified 10 
observe his' tcn-ycar-old twin 
daughters, Frances and Julia, skip- 
ping gleefully across the lawn. 

Completely unaware of danger, 
thc\ were busily collecting the fas 
cinating shining objects that w'crc 
bouncing all round them—emptN 
cartridges from the attacking’ 
planes. Davidson helped his wife tc» 
snatch the children indoors, then 
dashed to his command post 
direct •'csisiance. Shouting orders 
like an enraged Tartar, he worked 
feverishly with his olfieers .iikI men 
disengaging undamaged planes 
from those already on fire and push 
ing them to s«ifcty. 

“We did rK>t have the -gun’' 
loaded,” Davidson told the Rolkrts 
Oimmission, appointed on Dccein 
ber 16, 1941, to investigate the Pcari 



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Hiirbour disaster. “That was our 
biggest difficulty, especially since 
one of the hangars where we had 
our ammunition stored was on fire, 
and the ammunition was on fire, 
too.” 

Before the attack was over, 
several hangars were ripped open 
and burnt to charred skeletons. 
Bombs slammed into the men's bar- 
racks, killing several hundred on 
the spot an^ badly wounding others. 
Many struggled from their quarters, 
bleeding, moaning, dying, and yet 
ev'cn in their agony helping one 
another towards safety. 

Although Wheeler Field was a 
camp reeling with stunned and be- 
wildered personnel, it fought back. 
“Officers and men stood against 
that withering hail of bombs and 
bullets and fought their guts out,” 
said Colonel Flood, 

But the cxlds were too onc-sidcd. 
When the bombers and fighters 
winged away from their blfKidy 
orgy of bombing and strafing, 
Wheeler Field was a panorama of 
havoc and ruinf with a boiling cloud 
of smoke and fire climbing skyward 
and westward with the wind. It w'as 
also a hideous junk-heap of plane 
wreckage. For the Japanese had 
knocked out one third or more of 
General Davidson's P-40 and P-}6 
fighters. 

•Til Send You a Liaison Officer” 

^Hick\m Field, which housed 
some 70 bombers, also slumbered 
in the carly-morning sunlight. Its 


B-i 7’s, the new four-engine “Flying 
Fortresses,” were much feared by 
the Japanese because of their range 
and striking power. But there were 
only 12 of them, and all the 
bombers, like the fighters at 
Wheeler Field, were parked tightly 
together in front of their hangars, 
as helpless as nefi^ly hatched birds in 
tfce nest. 

Suddenly a deafening roar of 
engines split the morning air, and a 
whole cloud of planes sped down 
from the north. Quickly the oncojn- 
ing aircraft divided up and zoomed 
off in \arious direction.s, one section 
of nine dive bombers moving to- 
wards Hickam Field itself, with the 
mission of destroying it. 

Major-ficneral Frederick Martin, 
ccmmandcT .of the Hawaiian Air 
Force, had rccenilv moved his head 
quarters to Hickam Field. His chief 
of staff, popular and able (Colonel 
James Mollison, who was shaving 
when the bombs started exploding, 
hurncdlv dressed and ran to the 
office. 1'here he at once telephoned 
his opposite number, (ailonel 
Walter IMiillips, fJeneral Short’s 
chief of .staff, and told him the\ 
were under Japanese attack. Phillips 
simply could not believe 11. 

“You're out of you*' mind, 
Jimmy," he replied, to the best (it 
Mollistm’s memory. “What’s the 
matter^ Arc you drunk ^ Wake up' 
W.ikr upF’ 

I'he sorcly-tricd Mollison gritted 
his teeth and held out the rccci\er 
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of the bombs. Phillips at last took 
in what was happening. 

“I can hear it,” he said. “I can 
hear it. What do you want me to 
do^” Then, inspired, “I’ll tell you 
what, 1 will send you over a liaison 
officer immediately.” 

At this precise moment the ceil- 
ing collapsed— a fitting emphasis 
for Mollison's amazement and frus- 
tration. 

CJcncral Martin arrived at the 
luMtlcjiiartcrs approximately ten 
minutes after Mollison, and auto- 
matically starteii upstairs where the 
ollices were. Hut Mollison, w'ho 
meanwhile had improvised a work- 
ing area on the ground fltx>r, wisely 
h.illcd him. 

“(ieneral, don’t go up there,” he 
said. “It is loo dangerous. If you 
stay down here at least you will hast* 
two ceilings between you and the 
enemy.” 

Marlin recognized the good sense 
r>f this and took over Molliw^n s 
tksk. while another was rolled iii 
for the chief of staff. 

.Mf»llison was deeply concerneJ 
.ibnui his chief. Never in goul 
health, AMartin was obviously a sick 
man that morning. In fact, an old 
uker had broken ojK-n, A»rd he was 
haemorrhaging internally. His 
.islien face and haunted eyes mill- 
I ated that he was in a slate of shock. 
Ikit his subsequent ma'ttcr-of fact 
I s idc ncc to the Roberts Commission 
showed that, however crushed m 
spirit, he was still an airman. 

“Our ambition at the time was u> 



try to get the carriers if we possibly 
could,” he said. Note that he spoke 
of carriers in the plural. Even at this 
early stage he realized that he had 
to deal with more than one nest of 
hornets. 

“I called up Rear-Admiral Bel- 
linger, head of the local Naval Air 
Forces, on the field phone,” Martin’s 
testimony continued. “As you 
know, the Navy is responsible for 
the search. The bombardment was 
so heavy we could hardly hear each 
other. He said he had no informa- 
iion whatever to give me any light 
js to ishich direction to go to find 
the carriers.” 

Not that it mattered. Neither 
Martin nor Bellinger had enough 
planes left to challenge Japan's 
armada. 

Eight months earlier, on 
.March 31, 1941, the two men had 
published a joint report pointing out 
the likelihood of a surprise Japanese 
air attack from carriers brought 
within 300 miles of the island. Such 
an attack could be forestalled, thev 
s.ud, by regular patrols of long- 
range planes. The planes for this 
task had nut been forthcoming. Did 
either of them now remember th.it 
famous Martin-Bcllinger Report, so 
brilliant, so accurate — and now so 
ironiL.illv, tragically useless.’ 

Brav« Men Under Fire 

tN Ford Isiand, only two or 
three of Admiral Bellinger's naval 
patrol planes were left in sha^ie to 
take olT, despite valiant eiforts to 



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repair damaged craft’— efforts which 
at first ran, foul of rigid service pro- 
cedures. 

Commander Ramsey recalls that 
an old paym.ister, in charge of 
the depot where spare parts were 
stored, even during the attack could 
not shake off the conscientious habit 
of years. 

“I won’t issue supplies without a 
signed receipt,” he said llallv. 

Whereupon Admiral Hellinger 
lost his temper, one of the few tunes 
on record that this ukjsi good 
natured of men blew up. lie 
rounded up some Marines carr\ing 
bavoncts and led them it) Siip()lv 
Stores ^ith simple directions: 
“Boys, take what you want." 

In many cases, however, nun 
rose instinctively to tlu crisis 
Mollison remembers in particular 
one man on Hickam lucid. I le was 
an old punch-drunk e,\-pri/c lighter 
who spent his time in<»\ving lawns 
and W'orking on other sik h tasks, as 
he had proved unfit for anvlhing 
else. luJt on JVarl Harlwiur tla\ hi 
reacted with U’cmendoiis courage. 
Somehow' he got hold t)f a machine- 
gun and tired it at tlu ariaikifii' 
plants, first from his hip, then fitun 
his shoulder. Of course this iinei|ual 
conte.st Lould base onI\ nnr t ruling. 
The man wms killetl. But lu-ryonc 
on tiickam Field nmembered his 
valour under fire. 

A few minults befon* the attack 
(’aptain Brooke Alim, le.iderof one 
of Hickam’s bombing squadrons, 
had rcceivtd a teicplif^ne call from 


the mainland. It was his wife 
Helen, six months pregnant, phon- 
ing from her parents’ home in 
Florida, where she had been stay; 
ing since late summer. She was 
worried aliout the bad state of 
affairs in the Pacific and wondered 
if and when she should return to 
Hawaii. ('aptaiR Allen told her not 
to come to I lonolulii until things 
had cleared up.. He would then 
make the travel arrangements and 
let her know. 

Slu»rtlv after he hung u[), ihc.air 
was rent b\ a vnes nt rocking c\ 
plosions. Recogni/ing at once that 
the )a[>anese had stiiuk, Allen hail 
but one iilca . Cici bis B ij’.s into the 
air and light. ^ 

As Ik s[H‘d to the rations area 
in furious Juiste, he found the 
lapanese “knocking hell out ol 
everv thing." ( )ni of the first Ujinhs 
destioved a re[).ur hangar, another 
( '^ploded 111 a snpplv building, .scjul 
mg nnn.id nuts, Ivilts .tiul wheels 
hurlliiig through the air. As .if 
Wditelcr lueld, the other raiiki^ snt 
tired the w'orst carn.ige A l)oinh 
ff ‘11 right into the dining room of 
the niige ^,000 m.in barracks wliiK 
manv were at breakfast. Ale n 
pourtri lailside in anguished hi 
wildennent, blieding, noaning. 
and dragging the woundeil wifli 
tin in. 

“For (’hrist s .sake, what’s gome 
on - ’ they a.skeil. 

Many would never know. For .1 
Japane.se fragmentation botriii now 
fell among them as thev galheinl 



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HOLOCAUST AT PHAKL HARIiOUli 


outside, :ind mangled bfidies fright- 
fully. 

Other bombs tore .into the water 
mains, lifting geysers ten to 15 feet 
high, and struck Hickam's fire- 
lighting equipment, making it 
almost im(K>ssible to stem the 
inferno. When Captain Allen 
arrived at the hangars, hot streams 
of incendi.iry bullets had already 
turned bomber after Inimbcr into 
irackling fiames. 

Amid all the confusion Allen 
jumped into the cockpit of one of 
his H-iy’s and tried to get the plane 
into the air. He managed to get 
three engines started but could not 
turn the fourth. However, he ta.\- 
ird his plane away from the burn- 
ing hangars into the o|)en area. 
Then marauding Zeros joined 
the dive bombers in strafing runs 
until it seemed that all the hornets 
of hell had been loosed, and for 
the moment he had to give it up. 

Rut one vignette of the action in- 
delibly impressed itself on Captain 
Allen ’s.memory. As he was running 
to the K-17's he had seen an airman 
I limb into the turret of a B-18, face 
die full fuiy of tbc attack and “fire 
like hell at the J.ipjncsc” with his 
m.ichine gun. All the while the B-18 
VV.IS on fire. Allen did not know 
this brave man. Nor was he sure 
whether the lad lived or died. 

Twelve’ B-I7 ’s, en route to the 
Philippines from the United States, 
h.id been scheduled to stop at 
Hickam Field for fuel and servic- 
mg. Gimplctcly unaware of what 


awaited them there, the pilots were 
now winging their w.iy into the 
inferno. 

The (light h.id already proved a 
singularly ill-starred one. For the 
expected arrival of this flight had 
caused the Amcric.ms on the ground 
to disreg.ird the one clear warning, 
In radar, which might have saved 
the fleet. 

An hour earlier, Private Joseph 
Lockard .ind Private C»eArge Elliott 
of the 55th Signal Aircraft Warn- 
ing Service had been manning a 
radar station near Kahuka Point, on 
the northern tip of Oahu. 

Suddenly there had been pulses 
on the radar screen so strong and 
vivid that at first Lockard thought 
something was wrong with the 
equipment. He checked to sec, but 
there was not. 

Deciding that it must be a flight 
of some sort, he asked Elliott to plot 
it, “We picked up the flight at 136 
miles,” Lfxrkard tells us, “and when 
it got to 132 we called the Informa- 
tion Centre.” 

“Well, don’t worry about it,” 
said Lieutenant Kermii Tyler, the 
young officer then on dutv at the 
Ck'ntre. Tyler knew that a flight of 
B-iy's was due from the mainland, 
and assumed that it was these planes 
that had been picked up by the 
radar sLuion, 

It was then about 7.15. Fuchida 
and his powerful aerial armada 
were 45 minutes away. There 
was still lime for American forces 
to he .ilerted, for the pilots to 



nn Af int h ^ r»rt,i*M 


|iimp inio thtir pi ine$ .md go out lc» 
mctt iht in\ idtr, for the siilors to 
min the ships guns and m ikt short 
work of Mgr U i s 1wk^^ ird torpedo 
bombers It ^ is iht list chinte fur 
US lorets in Hiwni ind it 
tluclid them 

\(m the H ns iindcT the c( m 
Timd of Mi)or Tiumm I indun 
\^ere fl\ing into in i nsiispcLtid 
hell lire of destriiitu n Ihe\ vsin 
It the t 111 end of lon^ tiiin^lhL,hi 

14 hours md \\<k tKin^ sl[ r 
iteK inste id of in t( rm ifi )ii S jm 
were low intiiel Ml v\ teun limed 
their guns [iieked in eosmolint 

\s thiN broke thn ugh i Juud 
bink to •ippnueh Oihu the^ iti 
eoimtereel i gre up ot si\ 10 nine 


pi ines flving directlv at them from 
the south “Here comes the U S 
\ir I firce out to greet us/ thought 
L indon But at ilmost the sime in 
si int the phnes dived m on them 
with miehineguns bl i/ing Then 
the L S pilots eould set the m irk 
ings of the Rising Sun \ \oiee o\er 
the intercom b^irked ‘Dimn it, 
those irc Jipsf 

* I melon imnudi iteK look ev isi\e 
letion md toriiin iteK lost the 
1 1[ inese llight n the clouds Soon 
ht w s lurOihu mil now he eould 
see Iliekim I it Id below him 
smoking md b ilmg like 1 hot 
e uilehi n He reported l< llu eontrol 
tower then malt i vside turn K 
stirt down tre»m h i t feet 



Nescafe 



“You have three japs on your 
rail,” the tower warned. 

Landon looked back and, sure 
enough, they were hsanging on to 
his |)lanc like bats to a clilfside, 
^)Ouring in bullets port and star- 
board. To make matters worse, U.S. 
fr>rtcs on the ground were also 
slamming shot and shell at him. 
Kven so, he Lontinued his desLi nt, 

It is a inbiitt* lo thr- U.S. 1 > 
pilots that the\ were <iblo to land at 
all under such comlitions. Hut land 
(ht \ did, ( )ne managed it at lUdlows 
.III lh(‘ south east eoasr, IW(» at the 
shu/t strip at Ilaleiw.i, on the 
north west short ot C) iliu Otliers, 
like Uaiulon. <ame down right on 
ilukain I'll 


Fuchida Assesses the Damage 

The AIR SCENE changed now. and 
Japanese fighters and bcimbers no 
longer hu/zecl around like bees. Fx- 
cept for a few stragglers, they had 
turned bark towards their carriers. 

They did not fly back in mass 
formation. Instead, as each unit 
finished its task, it rende/vous’d at 
a [K)int about 20 miles north-west of 
Oahu. The bombtrs circled there 
to pick up an\ waiting fighters 
(which, l aving weak radios .ind no 
na\igat(»rs, louIcI e.isily lose their 
bearings o\cr w’aler\ then guided 
them to the rnothr r ships 

In case LUS planes might follow' 
them and thus locate the task force, 




THE READER S DIGEST 


elaborate deception tactics were em- 
ployed. * 

“My unit from Soryu tocjk a 
decoy route back to the carrier/’ 
said Lieutenant Sadao Yamamoto, 
an observer in one of Fuchida’s 
high-level bomber groups. “We 
headed westwards from Oahu and 
flew 30 miles before turning north- 
ward again. In fact 1 thought we 
might get lost, and I worried about 

V - 

Chief Flight Pett\ OliKei |u/o 
Mon, a torpedo pilot from Suiyit. 

. stated : “To conceal the position ol 
our carrier, as we had been in- 
structed to do, 1 turned and took a 
course due south, directly opposite 
to Soryu s true position.” 

The torpedo planes were the first 
to leave the battle area. Once their 
torpedoes were loosed, the pilots 
picked up a fighter escort and made 
for the rendezvous point. An east 
wind had given them ideal attack 
conditions, for smoke from bomb 
explosions and anti-aircraft fire had 
blown across Ford Island and awa\ 
from their •Jow-flying torpedo 
planes. 

This had left them a [X'rfect 
view of the target, whereas a west 
wind would have blown the smoke 
into their faces and concealed the 
ships by a black pall. As thev 
winged northward they knew they 
had scored huge damage against the 
U.S. Fleet. 

^Thc dive bombers could gloat, 
loT). At ibout H.io Lieutenant- 
Commander Kakuichi Takahashi 


radioed the ta.sk force; “Homix'd 
Ford Island, Hickam and Wheeler. 
Terrible damage inflicted.’' His io.ss 
had been one dive bomber. And the 
fighters had lost only three planes, 
while their assaults on U.S. air 
power had Ixen deadly. At Kcllows 
Field, for cxamjile, where a number 
of U.S. pursuit craft tried to get into 
ihe air, the Zeros shot them down 
almost :is fast as they moved out for 
lake-ofT. 

As for his own high-level 
bombers, Flight Leader Mitsuo 
Fuchul.i h.id dulled them endlessly 
in accuracy. There was only one 
.shot .It the enemy (kt plane, and u 
had to count. 

“Not a single bomb is to he 
dropped carelessly,” he h.id told his 
groups. “It necessary, make two, 
three, even four runs over the tar- 
get.” They had faithfully followed 
his teachings, and Fuchida himself 
had made three runs over California 
before he was suflicicntly satisfied 
to drop his bomb. 

Unlike the others, Fuchid;r con- 
tinued to circle over Oahu, trying 
to .isscss the damage inflicted, for 
he w.is anxious to bring back a fidl 
rcfxirt. 

The .inti-aircraft fire. es[xci.ilh 
from the ships and dockyard areas, 
had bv this time become so strong 
that it was difficult to jKOetrate the 
veil of smoke and fire to’ see below 
Hut by persistent manexuvring 
Fuchida managed to size tip the 
.situation. 

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HOLOCAUST AT PEARL HARBOUR 


had turned the harbour into a char- 
nel house. Everywhere men were 
scrambling down side chains, run- 
ning to and fro along the decks, 
jumping overboard, swimming to- 
wards shore — all trying desperately 
to escape the choking oil and creep- 
ing flames that , threatened from 
every direction. Nearly all the 
batdeships seemed to be sinking, 
heavily damaged or on fire. 

At 8.55, Fuchida heard the attack 
signal of the second wave, which 
was now over the eastern side ol 
Oahu. 

Before he turned back to his 
carrier, he .saw the newly-arrived 
bombers flying over Ford Island. 
He had planned to give target in- 
structions to this second wave, Hut 
the dispatch with which it began to 
perform its mission made such 
orders unnecessary. 

As Fuchida winged his way back 
to Al(ugi, aglow with satisfaction, he 
had no way of foreseeing the ulti- 
mate effect of the terrible thunder- 
bolt he had hurled. That he had 
.iwakened a slumbering giant and 
thus irrevocably changed the course 
of japantsc history, he did not once 
suspect. 

The Second Wave 

About half an hour elapsed be- 
tween the end of the first-w^ave 
■ittack and the onset of the second 
- time enough for desperate men to 
elcar the debris from runways, set 
u[* machine-guns and ack-ack cm- 
l^lacemcnts, patch up the remaining 


airworthy planes, and otherwise pre- 
pare to meet the next blow, which 
was expected any rngment. Every 
military installation on Oahu, dur- 
ing this brief grace period, was an 
ant-heap of feverish activity. 

The frantic work stopped when a 
second armada — 170 planes this 
time — ^plunged down from the 
north. Again the Battle of Oahu 
roared in unmitigated fury: burst- 
ing bombs, screaming planes, spit- 
ting guns, whistling steel, flying 
debris, gutted hangars, twisted 
ships, burning buildings, wounded 
and dying men, everywhere vio- 
lence, explosions, wreckage. And 
smoke-acrid, foul, so black and 
thick that the Japanese pilots could 
not bomb accurately. 

Again U.S. forces fought cou- 
rageously against punishing odds. 
And now, lacking the all-important 
element of surprise which had 
brought the first W'avc through 
almost unscathed, the pilots of the 
second wave soon realized they were 
m a real fight. For anti-aircraft fire 
pounded away at them, hot and 
heavy. 

Lieutenant Fusata lida, 28-ycar- 
old fighter pilot who led the Third 
Air Control Group from Soryu, w’as 
a short, handsome man with a 
warm personality and a ready wit. 
Aggressive, hard-drinking and 
popular, he had survived three years 
of combat in China. But when he 
look off from the carrier that morn- 
ing he had seen his last sunrise. He 
had, in fact, about one hour to live. 

^77 




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ORF THAN A SWEET.. .A FOOD! 


February 

Over the naval air base at Kane- 
ohe, flying shrapnel from the 
defenders’ guns rocked his Zero. 
Fragments cut into his fuel tanks, 
:md petrol began to spurt out in a 
long white spray. As his plane 
dropped precipitously, lida must 
have remembered «Fhc advice he had 
so often given his men. He had re- 
peated it only that morning ; 

“The most important thing for a 
soldier who is a true samurai is his 
last determination. If, for instance, 
1 should receive fatal damage to my 
fuel tank, I would aim my plane to 
eflect the greatest destruction and, 
without thought of survival, would 
throw myself into the target.” 

True to this samurai code, Iida 
now signalled his group to disband 
formation, px)i'nting first to himself 
and then to the ground to make 
clear his intention. Then he plunged 
intfi* the enemy with guns -blazing 
.ind throttle open. 

“The last I saw of lida,” Lieu- 
tenant lyozo Fujita recalls, “was 
when he began his crash dive, ‘his 
plane hurtling straight downwards, 
into a flaming hangar on Kaneohe 
Air Base.” 

lida was not the only Japanese 
airman to greet the dark angel by 
such suicidal tactics. At Hickam 
Field, at least one pilot, and possibly 
.1 second, followed lida’s spectacular 
manner of leaving the world-^a 
grim foreshadowing of the deadly 
Kamikaze attacks to appear later in 
the war. 

The second-wave assault on 

1 7% 


i€/)4 

Battleship Row was made solciv hy 
dive bombers, high-level bombers 
and fighters, since the lumbering 
torpedo planes stood no chance 
against an alerted enemy. The .il 
tackers had been instructed to con 
centrate on the badly damaged shi[)s 
and destroy them beyond salvage 
Hut the black, oily smoke arising 
from such ships made it im|X)ss;bl(‘ 
to see them, so the bombers had no 
choice but to home in on whatewr 
vessels had so far escaped unseallied 
or with little damage. 

During the attack several bomb 
ITS spotted the 29,0(K)-ton batih 
ship yievada trying to esca^K' to 
the open sea, and pounced on hei 
like falcons on a fat goose. As slu 
mosed towarefs the outer ^hannd 
she was barely limping alcmg, tor a 
torpedo from the first w.ise had 
already npfxrd a hole in her tfie si/i 
of a house— 45 feel long and |cci 
high. It seemed a golden op[)or> 
tunity to seal off the Pearl Harbour 
l)ase by sinking this mass of steel in 
the* rT>.un channel. 

It might take months to remove 
such an obstacle from the channel, 
and meanwhile whatever ships of 
the Pacific Fleet were not locked in 
would be locked out. The vessels at 
sea would find themselves cut off 
from their mother base, from re* 
fuelling, rcvictualling and repairs. 
Little wonder that the dive bombcTs 
went after the stricken vessel with 
triple vengeance. 

They scored at least five direct 
hits and two near misses ,)n the ship. 



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Gather hair high above neck in left hand. 
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hair and encircle the loop from left to rightr 
tucking ends under the loop. 





HOLOCAUST AT PEARL HARBOUR 


but somehow could not sink her. 
Rear-Admiral William Furlong, 
who had been in on the fight from 
the very first bomb, sent two tugs 
to get her out of the channel. 
Nevada still had some power of her 
own, and with the tugs' assistance 
crossed to the other side of the 
channel, where she was grounded. 

I’he bombs had started several 
fires and had also cut her fire mains 
so that she had no water. But the 
tugs [Hit out her fires, and Nevada, 
which was known as the “Cheer 
Up Ship," lived up to her name bv 
being one nt the first (if the Pearl 
llarboui tasuakus to go hack into 
action. 

B\ the second attack wave 
had completed its mission. It with- 
ilrew, abandoning Oahu's skies to 
the flames and smoke of the holo- 
Laust below. Like the first wave, it 
had expended Us wrath on U.S. 
[iL.nes and air installations as well 
as on ships. 

It IS dilhculi U) assess the precise 
dcstfuclion each attack wave in- 
[Iktcd on Hickam and other air 
lields, but one point is unmistakably 
deur: L' S. air power in Mawaii 
had suffered losses as great, rcla- 
tivclv speaking, as had sea jKiwcr. 
Perhaps greater. 

The Lost Opportunity 

Thv utkst-wwe Japanese planes 
began arriving back at the task force 
‘dxMit ten o'clock, the second wave 
•ihour two hours later. The weather 
had worsened, and high waves and 


tricky winds made landing difficult. 
Some of the pilots, full of haste and 
tension, landed “hbt'" like ducks. 
Mishaps were many, and a few 
badly damaged craft had to be 
pushed into the sea to clear the 
decks for the fuel-short planes circ- 
ling impatiently overhead. Return- 
ing to Soryu, Lieutenant Sadao 
Yamamoto was faced with the pros- 
pect of landing with one tyre shot 
away. But his friends orf deck oblig- 
ingly shot the other tyre and Yama- 
moto jarred home safely. 

On Hiryti, medical officers 
waited on deck ready to rush the 
wounded to sick bay.The^numerous 
flak scars on the arriving planes 
made them fear the worst, but aston- 
ishingly not a single pilot in either 
wave from Htryu was hurt. Other 
ships were less fortunate. On Al^agi, 
a badly wounded petty officer died 
that night and was buried at sea. 

After returning to Zui\al{u, 
Lieutenant Masao Sato dropped 
into the radio room and listened to 
messages from two bombers that 
had lost their way. They requested 
the position of the task force, but 
the ships were maintaining strici 
radio silence and could not answer. 
Finallv the bombers radioed that 
they were running out of fuel and 
were going to* crash into the sea. 
^'Bansmi, Banzai, Banzai!*' 

But losses were relatively insigni- 
ficant — 2Q planes in actual combat, 
a few others lost at sea or » in 
smash-up landings— and more than 
300 craft returned safely to the task 

tSi 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


foKc. The attack had succeeded be- 
yond the wildest hopes of the Japa- 
nese, and on each of the six carriers 
the airmen were almost hysterically 
jubilant. 

On Al^agi, flagship of the fleet, 
the elation and excitement were 
electric. It was after 1 1 when 
Fuchida’s pilot swooped down on 
the rolling deck and braked his 
heavily riddled bomber to a halt. 
Commander Minoru Genda, who 
was in ch.irge of the whole air 
operation, was waiting when 
Fuchida stepped on deck and exult- 
antly wrung his hand. 

After the two men had exchanged 
congratulations, Genda rushed back 
to the bridge while Fuchida sought 
out various group leaders at the re- 
porting table. 

This was set up on the flight deck 
beside a huge blackboard sketch of 
Pearl Harbour, on which all the 
known ships there were located. As 
each returning pilot was inter- 
viewed, the attack results were esti- 
mated and marked down. Flashed 
information from the other carriers 
helped to All in the details, which 
soon formed a picture of vast devas- 
tation. Nor could the carefully re- 
strained wording of these messages 
conceal the fact that all the air 
groups were champing to go hack 
and finish the job of destruction. 

It was a golden opportunity, 
which the Japanese were to let slip. 
W<hen Admiral Chuichi Nagumo, 
Commander-in-Chief of the task 
force, summoned him to the bridge 


to report on the raid, Fuchida 
wanted desperately to mount a final 
mopup attack on the U.S. base. He 
told the assembled staff officers that 
all evidence pointed to at least two 
American battleships sunk and 
four seriously damaged. He also 
emphasized that his pilots had 
achieved undisputed control in the 
ak', and he concluded that, except 
for heavy anti-aircraft fire, the 
Americans had been stripped of 
their ability to retaliate. 

Nagumo beamed with satisfac- 
tion and dismissed Fuchida with 
warm praise for a job well done. But 
It soon became obvious that the ad- 
miral did not intend to exploit the 
situation, indeed that his sole aim 
was now to bolt b.ick to Japan as 
quickly as possible. 

Nagumo was a traditional battle- 
ship admiral who had never pre- 
tepded to understand air power. He 
had not relished the Pearl Harbour 
job, and had remonstrated violently 
over the hazards inherent in the 
plan. • * 

Although his dark forebodings 
had not been realized and his 
ships had escaped without a scratch, 
he still wanted to get out. Perhaps 
he felt his greatest contribution to 
Japan’s over-all war plan would be 
to bring back his task force intact, 
since other pressing tasks were 
awaiting it. 

Admiral Tamon Yamaguchi, 
commanding officer of the Second 
Carrier Division, Soryu and Hiryu, 
infoimed Nagumo that a third 





THE RE.WER^S DIGEST 


wave could be launched from his 
ships almost immcdiatcly/'D^i niji 
kpgef{i jumbi is 

ready for another attack’’) — he flash- 
ed from Soryu, Yamaguchi spoke 
for all the airmen, and Commander 
Gcnda never ceased urging Na- 
gumo either to search out and attack 
the U.S. carriers or to make another 
strike against U.S. base installations. 
When Genda’s evident dismay veri- 
fied his own fears that there was 
to be no further action, Fuchida 
himself pleaded with Nagiimo. To 
no avail. 

At this point only Admiral 
Isoroku Yamamoto could have 
turned Nagumo back to Oahu. As 
Commander-In-Chief of the Com- 
bined Fleet and Nagumo 's direct 
superior, he could have ordered 
another assault to give the U.S. 
Navy its coup de grace, Yamamoto 
had conceived and pushed through 
the audacious Pearl Harbour plan, 
and from Nagato, which was then 
anchored at Hashirajima in the 
Inland Sea, he and his stafl had fol- 
lowed the raid with almost unbear- 
able suspense. 

Exultant radio bulletins from 
the attacking planes— “Enemy 
battleships * struck with great 
damage” . . . “Ford Island in 
flames” . . . “No air interference” 
— plus the frantic American mes- 
sages— “This IS the real thing” . . . 
“All ships clear Pearl Harbour” 
—told a story of overwhelming 
success. 

Pearl Harbour, however, was but 

i8^ 


one of Yamamoto’s many responsi- 
bilities; other fleet operations were 
already under way ilia highly com- 
plex plan encompassing most of the 
Pacific. So he left tactical decisions 
to the commander at the scene of 
battle — an officer who happened to 
be super-cautiouj. 

Part of Admiral Nagumo’s cau- 
tion stemmed from the fact that 
Japan was fighting a poor man’s 
war. It IS much easier to be Ix^ld and 
aggressive if you can afford it. If 
American ships were lost, the 
country could reaJil\ build others. 
But every Japanese admiral had con 
stand)' to ask himself: Can my 
vessel be replaced if I lose her? 
Japan’s capacity to build ships was 
restricted not only by shortages of 
strategic minerals, machine tools 
and fuel, but also b\ inadequacy of 
technical knowledge and scarcity of 
trained personnel. Her wheel 
barn^w economy could ill afford to 
trade blow for blow WMth America’s 
industrial colossus- a bitter fact 
which always had to be considered. 

Nagumo felt like a man in a 
gammg house who had staked his 
life’s savings on the turn of a card 
— and won. His only thought was 
to cash in and go home. Like Yama 
moto he had a read) supply of 
Japanese maxims and proverbs 
**Yudan taitekij' he said now. 
(“Carelessness is the greatest 
enemy.”) 

The task force sailed firmly home 
wards. And Fuchida was so in 
censed by this excess of prudent 




rtpm«ntin|. tiM Mncril indtt tp| . wvg i 09 *. ltd. mllb*') mgpur • th« ttu mlllt led,, bomtay 

the ihmtdabad tdvtnct mltli hd.. thmcdibid • eh* svtdnhi nllU go ltd , bombty 


i8s 



THE READER'S DIGEST February 


that he scarcely spoke to Admiral 
Nagumo during the entire return 
voyage. 

Confiisiofi M Oahu 

At 3 p.M. on that fateful Sunday 
a telegraph boy cycled up to 
Admiral Kimmel’s headquarters 
with a message from Washington. 
It was a cable from General George 
Marshall to General Short, but a 
copy had ilso been dispatched to 
Admiral Kimmel for his informa- 
tion. The message (which was sent 
through commercial channels and 
arrived more than five hours after 
the raid was over) advised the island 
defence forces that the Japanese 
were presenting an ultimatum at 


7.30 a.m. Honolulu time. They 
should be “on thealert accordingly." 

Kimmel scanned the cable with 
bafHed rage and hurled it into the 
waste-paper basket. Its interest was 
now purely historical. 

The incident did not seem out of 
place in the surrealistic confusion 
which now reigned on Oahu. No 
one knew, for example, from what 
direction the blow had come. In- 
credibly, not one U.S. pilot suc- 
ceeded in following the Japanese 
planes back to their carriers some 
200 miles to the north. Early reports 
seemed to agree that the attackers 
had come from the south, and all 
available search planes were sent out 
to comb that area. 







HOLOCAUST AT PEARL HARBOUR 


1^4 

The Opana radar station near 
Kahuku Point, where the two men, 
Lockard and Elliott, had picked up 
the incoming Japanese planes early 
that morning, was still manned, and 
a plot of its findings showed a clear 
return track to the north. But this 
carefully collected information was 
ignored, possibly because radar 
was then so new that U.S. officers 
still distrusted it. In any case 
American eyes remained fixed to 
the south. 

Fantastic rumours swept over the 
island and were widely believed. 
One story was that Japanese plan- 
tation labourers had cut arrows in 
the cane fields pointing to Pearl Har- 
bour (.1 peculiarly illogical rumour 


since Pearl Harbour is as easy to 
spot as a bass drum in a telephone 
box, and would be visible to the 
attackers long before they could see 
a marked cane field). Another tale 
was that cars driven by local Japa- 
nese saboteurs had deliberately 
blocked the road from Honolulu to 
Pearl Harbour. (“There were no 
such acts of sabotage in Hawaii,” 
said the local FBI, “before, during 
or after the attack.”) * 

The Japanese were said to be 
landing on Diamond Head, on the 
north shore, at Schofield, in Manoa 
Valley. (With her other commit- 
ments, Japan did not have enough 
ships to mount such an invasion, or 
to supply and defend a garrison in 


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THE READER*S DIGEST 


Hawaii, which is a thousand miles 
nearer to America than to Japan.) 
Nevertheless, a Japanese invasion 
was expected at any moment, and 
to repel it General Short deployed 
thousands of men in rifle pits — in- 
cluding air force men who might 
otherwise have been repairing 
damaged planes. 

With pride smarting and nerves 
scraped raw, the defenders of (^ahu 
lived diroilgh the rest of December 
7 as a man might move through a 
haunted house— -half-fearful, half- 
defiant, jumping at shadows, lash- 
ing out savagely at everything 
which ecossed his path. 

Pilots sent out to search for the 
Japanese carriers were shot down 
when they returned by their own 
trigger-happy comrades. Even 
rescue ships still trying to fish men 
out of the oily waters after nightfall 
were harassed and endangered b\ 
jittery Marines, who constantly 
challenged them, and blazed away 
if they were too slow in answering. 

One of the most heartbreaking 
incidents occurred when an evening 
flight of fighters from Enterprise, 
returning to the carrier too late to 
land, were instructed to make for 
Oahu. The six planes came in with 
their running lights on and made 
perfect targets. Over Hickam Field 
they ran into a blizzard of anti-air- 
craft fire and, sur/iving this, were 
again baptized over the Navy Yard 
and Pennsylvania. Captain James 
Shoemaker saw three of the planes 
go down in flames— one hitting the 

i i 8 


earth at Pearl City on the Peninsula. 
One pilot parachuted into the water 
and was rushed to hospital, but died 
just as he reached it. 

Three of the pilots were lucky. 
One crash-landed on Ford Island in 
total blackout, climbed out of his 
plane and wajked off unhurt. A 
second baled out over Barbers Point 
and survived. And Ensign James 
'Daniels saved his life by a bit of 
quick thinking. As the guns of Ford 
Island opened up, he flew straight 
for the gunners and dazzled them 
with his landing lights long enough 
to swoop up out of range. He 
circled near by until the ack-ack fire 
tapered off, then came in again, 
without lights, and landed safely. 

Adding Up the Score 

“I NirsT SAY this air raid was .1 
beautifully planned and bcautifullv 
ttxecuterl military manoeuvre,” Ad- 
miral Kimmel testified later, wiih 
typical bone honesty, at the Roberts 
(.Commission investigation. “Leav 
mg aside the unspeakable treacherv 
of it, the lapancsc did a fine job.'’ 

A survey of the damage showed 
that they had sunk, capsized or 
heavily damaged eight battleships, 
three light cruisers, three destroyers 
and four auxiliary craft— immobi 
lizing more than 300,1x10 tons alto 
gether, and dealing the U.S. Nav\ 
the most crushing blow in its his 
tory. In addition they had wiped out 
many of the installations at Hickam. 
Wheeler and other airfields, < 1 <; 
stroyed 64 of the 231 aircraft 



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assigned to the Hawaiian Air Force, 
and left no more than 79 of the re- 
maining planes immediately usable. 
And, finally, they had demolished 
more thaa half the island’s naval 
aircraft. 

How does one account for these 
terrible losses? Exploiting the ad- 
vantage of surprise, the Japanese 
had simply overwhelmed the U.S. 
forces by throwing 353 planes 
against thefn in one fell swoop — an 
astounding number for that day. 
But much of the destruction was 
also the result of the new technique 
of aerial-torpedo warfare. 

U.S. I^vy leaders believed aerial 
torpedoes could not be launched 
successfully in Pearl Harbour’s shal- 
low waters. The Japanese thought 
otherwise, and proved their point 
with thoroughness— although they 
did not solve the problem of a 
shallow-running torpedo until the 
last possible moment. The U.S. ad- 
mirals also doubted whether high- 
level bombs could penetrate massive 
deck armour; and here, too, the 
Japanese surprised them, by devis- 
ing a peculiarly deadly armour- 
piercing bomb from the 16-inch 
shells used by their own battleships. 

But the Japanese triumph was 
far from complete. They met 
their greatest disappointment in 
failing to destroy any of the three 
American carriers. -It had been a 
close thing with Enterprise, Return- 
ing from Wake Island, she had been 
saved only by a providential delay 
when her accompanying destroyers 


had trouble over refuelling in the 
heavy seas. Even so she was only 
200 miles off Oahu when Fuchida 
led the first attack wave in. 

The Japanese airmen also failed 
to knock out the machine shops on 
Oahu— facilities which were to 
prove invaluable in repairing the 
stricken ships. And they left intact 
the oil tanks in which were stored 
ihe oceans of fuel necessary to keep 
the fleet moving. Underground 
tanks were then being built with 
desperate haste, but at the moment 
the oil was still above ground and 
highly vulnerable. Loss of it might 
have driven what remained of the 
U.S. Fleet back to America and in 
effect yielded command of the 
Pacific to the Japanese for months. 

Luck played its part here when 
the tanker Neosho, berthed next to 
the tank farm on Ford Island, was 
almost miraculously spared a hit. 
An exploding Neosho would not 
only have made an inferno out of 
the four battleships moored near by 
— Maryland, Tennessee, OI(lahoma 
and West Virginia — but would in 
all probability have also sent the 
adjacent tank farm up in flames. 
Good fortune protected her, how 
ever, and when Captain Jack Phil 
lips courageously undertook to sail 
his dangerous craft out of the 
harbour, the Japanese, intent on 
bigger game, allowed her 10 
escape. 

Finally, the part played by their 
submarines in the Pearl Harbour 
attack was such a fiasco that to this 





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day Japanese Navy men are at a loss 
to explain it. 

On December 7, 1941, Admiral 
Kimmcl had a total of only nine 
submarines at Pearl Harbour. 
Against him the Japanese sent 25 
laige submarines and five midget 
two- man submarines. These 30 ves- 
sels were hissing through the dark 
waters of the Pacific days ahead, and 
were positioned all round Oahu well 
in advance of the air Mtrike. They 
were expected to play a major part 
in the attack — the midgets finishing 
off already wounded ships at anchor 
inside the harbour, the regular subs 
rescuing shot-down Japanese air- 
men and sinking any tj.S. ships 
which attempted to enter or leave 
the base. 

Apparently the Japanese sub- 
mariners were neither as well- 
trained nor as aggressive as the 
pilots. The returning Enterprise 
and her three escorting cruisers 
offered tempting targets, as did 
other U.S. Navy traffic. But Ad- 
miral Kimmcl’s warships were mili- 
iantl\ alert, and ihe^ thwarted every 
attempt against them. One large 
submarine and ffjur of the midgets 
were sunk, the fifth midget was 
grounded and had to surrender, and 
the Japanese undersea fleet accom- 
plished virtually nothing. 

Hail the Conquering Heroes! 

News of the attack on Pearl Har- 
bour astounded the Japanese people 
no less than it did the Americans. 
Excitement was high, and after the 

^93 


THE READER'S DIGEST 


firijt announcement newsboys raced 
through the streets continuously, 
cla n g in g their heralding bells. 
Every news flash was a fresh excuse 
to hawk another extra. 

"The day for the march of our 
too million compatriots has come,” 
a stirring editorial in Mainichi de- 
clared. “The day we have been im- 
patiently awaiting has arrived.” 

The great popular chorus of exul- 
tation contfhued despite solemn 
warnings by statesmen and noilitary 
leaders that hard days lay ahead. 
"Japan Is No Longer a Have-Not 
Country ! ” the headlines boasted . . . 
"History Is Now on the Side of the 
Axis.” . .*. “too Million Are All 
Heroes.” The editor of Nichi Nichi 
undoubtedly reflected the national 
mood when he exclaimed, “Our 
watchword today is ‘The Imperial 
farces are invincible.’ ” 

The Navy, long the Cinderella 
service, shunted aside while the 
Army basked in public favour, now 
came into its own. Its airmen were 
lauded in the most lavish terms for 
their glorious eitjploits, and the pres- 
tige of the whole Imperial Navy 
was lifted to dizzying heights. 

On December 22, when the First 
Air Fleet returned from its trium- 
phant 27-day voyage, the occasion 
was marked by prolonged festivities, 
flowery congratulatory speeches, 
ritualistic posing for. group photo- 
graphs, and an endless flow of eager 
questions. 

Even Admiral Osami Nagano, 
chief d the Naval General 

m 


Staff, who had originally opposed 
Yamamoto’s madcap seneme, re- 
peated at length for all to hear: 
“Yol(u Yattal Yolfu Yattal" 
(“Splendid t Splendid ! ”) 

Through all the ceremony and 
celebration the silence of one man 
was noticeable. Admiral Isoroku 
Yamamoto^ tllough obviously 
pleased and in good spirits, stood 
apart from the exuberant con- 
viviality and mutual back-slapping. 
His eyes were fixed warily on the 
future. “Your operation against 
Pearl Harbour was a great success,” 
he told the victorious sailors. “But 
you must scrupulously guard 
against smugness. There are many 
more battles ahead.” 

Commander Mitsuo Fuchida, 
especially, was the hero of the hour. 
He was interviewed, lionized, re- 
galed with one party after another. 
Eventually he was accorded the 
highest honour to which a Shintoist 
could aspire when the Emperor ex- 
pressed a desire to have a hrst-hand 
report of the fabulous attack. 
Admiral Nagano then arranged an 
audience with the “Son of Heaven” 
and brought Nagumo, Fuchida and 
Lieutenant-Commander Shigekazu 
Shimazaki, who had led the second 
attack wave, with him to Hirohito’s 
palace. 

Nagumo’s appearance before His 
Imperial Majesty offered no prob- 
lem, since he was an admiral. 
But the low rank of Fuchida and 
Shimazaki threw the guardians of 
rigid court etiquette into a dither— 





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THE READER'S DIGEST 


until they hit on the expedient of 
making the two pilots, temporarily, 
‘'special assistants to the chief of the 
Naval Staff.” The audience, sup- 
posed to last 15 minutes, stretched 
out to 45. And once, replying to one 
of the Emperor’s questions, Fuchida 
spoke directly to His Majcsty-=-a 
lapse of protocol which was 
graciously ignored. (Although 
Nagumo had sufficient rank to ad- 
dress His ^lajesty direct, the two 
younger men were expected to 
speak through the Imperial aide.) 

Emperor Hirohilo was particu- 
larly concerned about injuries to 
noncombatants. “Were there any 
hospital ships in Pearl Harbour?” 
he asked Fuchida. “And did you by 
chance hit such a ship?” Fuchida 
told him no such mistake had been 
made. The Emperor also enquired 
anxiously if any civilian or unarmed 
training planes had been shot down. 
Fuchida reassured him on this 
point, too. 

Fuchida was ill at ease during the 
entire audience^ stumbling over his 
words and fidgeting nervously with 
his hands. He was much relieved 
when the ordeal was over. He con- 
fessed afterwards that the attack on 
Pearl Harbour had been an easier 
task for him than telling the Em- 
peror about it. 

The Japanese have a curious, and 
to the Western mind sometimes in- 
congruous, passion for the aesthetic 
and the symbolic. Although the 
nation was now, cast headlong into 
a long and terrible struggle, this 
196 


traditional characteristic remained 
unchanged. 

Ushering in the year 1942 in 
accordance with an age-old custom, 
the Emperor proclaimed to his 
people the topic for the annually 
solicited New Year Welcome Poem. 
“Clouds Over Mountains” was the 
chosen subject. 

* Commenting on this Imperial 
choice, the Japan Ttmes and Adver- 
tiser, which was the official organ 
of the Foreign Office, remarked 
lyrically : “Clouds over Mountains 
arc symbolic of a new day beginning. 
Clouds capping high peaks catch 
the first grey light of dawn. The 
first sign of day is thrown on the 
clouds . . . The whole conception of 
clouds over mountains is happily 
illustrative of the year that has just 
dawned. It is the first day of the 
year in which Japan is fully to as- 
sume the leadership in the construc- 
tion of a new order over East Asia.” 

And so as the 17th year of Showa 
(it translates, ironically enough, into 
“Enlightened Peace”) dawned Upon 
a war-torn Pacific, the rising sun of 
Japan had never shone more bril- 
liantly nor had it ever cast its fiery 
rays across a larger horizon. Japan, 
in truth, rode high above the clouds 
that day and, from her position at 
the pinnacle of achievement, all 
mountains sloped downwards. 

Japan’s Epic Tragedy 

The nation’s descent from the 
mountain did not follow immedi' 
atcly, and the downward course was 





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HOLOCAUST AT PEARL HARBOUR 


uneven when it began. But almost 
from the first it was inexorable. 

' The tremendous gsimble at Pearl 
Harbour had paid off with the 
greatest victory the Japanese were 
fated to win. The long and agoniz- 
ing war which ensued was fought 
with all the skill and bravery which 
was their glory aifd the senseless 
brutality which was their bane, but 
never again would Hirohito’s army 
or navy touch the heights of that 
first attack. For never again would 
they have the time to exploit fully 
their national gift of painstaking 
craftsmanship, exquisite design and 
ceaseless patience. 

After Pearl Harbour the lapanese 
Navy raced through the Pacific like 
a pack of killer whales. But in less 
than SIX months the fateful Battle of 
Midway sent four of Yamamoto’s 
precious carriers gurgling to the 
bottom: Al(ags, Kaga, Soryu au^l 
Ihryu. 

This stunning defeat reversed 
the tide of the Pacific war, and 
ihe S 5 upan campaign, followed by 
ihc Bailie of Leyte Clulf, cventu- 
allv reduced the Imperial Navy to 
“a lish-]vmd fleet.” 

By the end of the war the large 
rod building which had housed the 
Naval General Staff was a mute, 
lifeless mass of charred ruins. And 
the bombed-out hulk of the once 
[)roiid battleship Nagato, upon 
whose broad decks Yamamoto had 
devised so many plans, tugged hopef- 
Icssly at her anchor in Yokosuka 
Bav — ,i symbol of utter defeat. 


Genda survived the war to be- 
come in time chief of staff of the 
new Japanese Air Force, a mem- 
ber of the Japanese parliament 
and America’s good friend. And 
Fuchida, although he received 
severe shrapnel wounds in both legs 
at Midway when A\agi went down, 
lived to become a devout Christian, 
active as a Presbyterian minister. 
But most of the participants in the 
Pearl Harbour strike we^ destroyed 
in the holocaust it unleashed. 

Lieutenant-Commander Shigeru 
Itaya, leader of the Zeros in the first 
wave, met his death in the bleak 
and fog-bound Kuriles on July 24, 
1944, when Japanese army pilots 
mistook him for an enemy and shot 
him down. Lieutenant-Commander 
Kakuichi Takahashi, leader of 
Fuchida ’s dive bombers, rode the 
wind to death and glory on May 8 
of the same year. Shimazaki, 
leader of the second wave, plunged 
into the sea between the Philippines 
and Formosa on January 9, 1945. 
And Lieutcnant-Commandei Taka- 
shige Egusa, thc^ dive-bombing 
leader who became a living legend 
in the war, crashed in a ball of 
smoke and fire over Saipan on 
June 16, 1944. 

Yamaguchi, an ardent supporter 
of Yamamoto jn his bold Hawaiian 
venture, refused rescue at Midway 
and chose to gQ down with Soryu. 
Nagumo, the worrier, who had held 
so much history in his hands, left 
his bones on Saipan as proof of his 
valour. And Yamamoto, Admiral 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


of -the Fleet, met docnn while 
on'dn inspection toulr of the front 
on April i8, 1(^43. U.S. Intelligence 
had. broken the Japanese code 
and knew where he would be, 
at what time and how he would 
travel. His unfailing punctuality 
finally played him false when a 
flight of P'38 ’s ambushed him over 
the steaming jungle of Bougainville. 

A Lesson in War 

At Pearl Harbovr the damage 
might have been far worse than it 
was. Unaccountably, the japanese 
had failed to destroy the naval vard 
with its vital machine shops — the 
“navy behind the navy" — and the 
tank farms which’ stored the 
precious lifeblood of the fleet. And, 
all things considered, Admiral Kim- 
mel’s decision to leave his ships in 
port over the week-end had been a 
wise one. If Nagumo’s raiders had 
sunk the ships at sea, they would 
have been permanently lost. As it 
was, manv of them were raised to 
fight another d^. 

Genda never ceased to lament the 
fact that Nagumo had not allowed 
his airmen to follow thr<jugh fur the 
final kill. “Had we knocked Pe.irl 
Harbour out and destroved cither 
Enterprise or Lexington, or both, 
the war in the Pacific would have 
been vastly different," he said in 
retrospect. “We should not have 
attacked just once. We should have 
attacked again and again." 

Many U.S. Navy men agree with 
him, including Admiral Nimitz, 
200 


who succeeded Kimmet in' the 
Hawaiian command. “Future stu> 
dents of our .naval war«io 'flie‘ 
Pacific,” he wrote, “will inevitably 
cuiclude that the Japanese com- 
mander of the carrier task force 
missed u golden opportunity in, re- 
stricting his att|ck on Pearl Har<^ 
hour to one day’s operations, and 
iif the very liimted choice of ob- 
jectives." 

Apart from the tragic loss of life, 
Pearl Harbour was by no means 
an unmitigated disaster. A number 
of U.S. Navy comm^ders who 
were in Hawaii believe that the 
Japanese “did us a favour” by sink- 
ing a lot of "obsolete scrap iron” 
and by making the carrier “the 
heart of the new sea power.” The 
Japanese ■alsc* threw' away the ripe 
fruits of an advantageous neutrality 
by plunging into a shooting war 
with the United States. And iii one 
stroke, by making Hawaii the first 
target of their shocking attack, they 
unified a badly divided and isola- 
tion-bent America. “President 
Roosevelt should have pinned 
med.'ds on us,” wryly admitted Ad- 
miral Chuichi Hara, commander of 
the Japanese Fifth Carrier Division, 
Shof^ai^u and Zuil(al(u. 

For {>eople who live in the new 
age of serious international tensions 
and unimaginable nuclear power. 
Pearl Harbour remains an impera 
tive lesson in war. It also under- 
scores one of history’s bitter truths: 
the unexpected can happen and 
often docs. thb £nd 




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It Pays to Increase Your Word Power 


3y Wilfred Funk 

THIS miscellany of nouns, verbs and adjectives, tick the word or phrase you 
believe to be nearest in meaning to the key word. Answers are on page 12 . 

(1) abate (a batc')--A: to reduce. B: in- (11) attain— A: to cling to.*B: achieve or 
crease. C: suppress. D: tease. gain. C: climb. D: possess. 


(2) visage (viz' lj)^A: endorsement 
B: landscape. C: face. D: dream. 

(3) conjugal (kon' io6 gal)— A: friend- 
ly. B: joined. C: probable or sup- 
posed. D: concerning marriage. 

(4) inoonacquential— A: illogical, B; 
important. C: not following naturally. 
D: seaet 

(5) leonine (l£' o nine) — A: lion-like. 
B: silky. C: flowing. D: graceful. 

(6) lax— A: irritated. B: slack. C: urdy. 
D: peaceful. 

(7) plaudit— A: enthusiastic approval. 
B: apparent truth. C: loud noise. D: 
criticism. 

(8) infest- to cause disease by intro- 
ducing germs. B: enrage. C: be present 
in annoying numbers. D: ulcerate. 

(9) mirage (ml rahzh')— A: miracle. B: 
amazement C: confusion. D: optical 
illusion. 

(10) abstemious (ab st€ ml us)— A: 
avoiding excess. B: shy. C: fiissy. 
D; emadited. 


(12) adjacent (a ja' sent)— A; beneath. 
B: above. C: attached to. D: near 
or next to. 

(13) valorous (val' or us)— A: brave. 
B: righteous. C: vain. D: boastful. 

(14) dispatch— A: dismissal. B: despera- 
tion. C: speedy execution. D: abrupt- 
ness. 

(15) facility— A ; aid. B ; ease and readiness. 
C: grace. D: rhythm. 

(16) irrespective— A: uncertain. B: with- 
out honour. C: irresolute. D: regardless. 

(17) extant (eks' tant or cks tarn')— -A- 
long-drawn-out. B: still existing. C: far- 
readiing. D: prominent. 

(18) fettle— A: shackle. B: joint of a 
horse’s leg. C: condition or shape. D:' 
excellence. 

(19) forgo— A: to move ahead. B: prevent. 
C: forget. D: do without. 

(20) habitable— A: customary. B: capable 
of being lived in. C: endurable. D: 
well-insnneied. 

turn h ptgt 12 ) 



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IT PAYS TO INCREASE 
YOUR WORD POWER 

Answers to the quiz on page 7 


(1) abate — ^A: To reduce; lower; di- 
minish; as, to abate a tax; (intran- 
sitive) “The storm abated** Old French 
dmtrtt “to beat down.” 

(2) visage — C: Face, countenance or ex- 
pression of a person or animal; as, 
a genial vis^. Latin visus^ “look.” 

(3) conjugal — D: Qinceming marriage; 
as, a life of conjugal bliss. Latin conjugalts 
from eonjungtre, “to |oin together.” 

(4) inconsequential— C; Not following 
naturally, irrelevant; wanting in logical 
sequence; as, inconsequential tcmztk, Latin 
m-, “not,” and consequi, “to follow along.” 

(5) leonine — A: Lion-like; as, a leonine 
head. Latin leo^ “lion.” 

(6) lax — B: Slack; not rigid, strict or 
stringent; as, lax morals, l^tin laxus^ 
“loose.” 

(7) plaudit — A: Enthusiastic approval; 
applause, as, to acknowledge the plaudits 
of the crowd. Latm plaudere, “to ap- 
plaud.” 

(8) infest — C: To be present in annoying 
numbers; beset; overrun; as, “Vermin 
infest the slums.” Latin infestare, from 
in/estus, “hostile.” 

(9) mitage— D: Optical jUusion: atmos- 
pheric reflection of a distant object, as, 
to be misled by a mirage. Latin mirari, “to 
wonder at.” 

(10) abstemious— A; Avoiding excess; 
marked by restraint in eating and 

12 


drinking; abstinent; as, Gandhi’s alh 
stuuieus habits. Latin ahstemius, 

(11) attain— B. To achieve or gain; as, to 
attam great wealth. Latin attmggre^ “to 
reach.” 

(12) adjacent— D: Near or next to; ad- 
joining; as, adjacent homes. Latin ad/acere^ 
“to lie near.” 

(13) valorous— A: Brave; courageous. 
Latin vakre, “to be strong.” 

(14) dispatch— C: Speedy execution; 
prompt disposal; hence, speed, haste; as, 
to act with dispatch. Spanish despaebar, “to 
get rid of.” 

(15) facility— B; Ease and readiness; as, 
to handle a lob with facility. Latin facilitas, 
from facilis^ “easy.” 

(16) irrespective— D; Regardless; lacking 
relation; independent; as, irrespective of 
political differences. Latin in-, “not,” and 
respectus, from respicere, “to look back.” 

(17) extant— B: Still existing and known; 
not destroyed ; as, one of the few books 
extant on the subject. Latin exstare, “to 
stand out.” 

(18) fettle— C: G>ndition or shape; as, to 
be in fine fettle. Middle English/rZ/m, “to 
gird up, prepare.” 

(19) forgo — D: To do without; abstain 
from; deny oneself; as, to forgo worldly 
pleasures. Old English forgan^ “to pass 

(20) habitable— B : Capable of being lived 
in; as, a habitable dwelling. Latin babita- 
bills. 

Vocabulary Ratings 


20 correct excellent 

19-16 correct good 

15-12 correct fair 



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This Illustration Is greatly reduced. 
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eminent world , 'enlnd, 

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32-page quick-reference Index— 27,000 place 
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Luxuriously bound and heavily gold-embossed. 




THt rAW 


Tlie moi 


Thi» llriiuious ^asW atlas give y, 
a dramatic sad eotiniy nw vfnr of t| 
world! Utm btfim has so mucbessti 
tial fcnowkdas, on so wide a range < 
siilgscta, been aieembled betmen tt 
covers of a single atlas. It will be 
I rewlation to yon. Wldi mage of 
vsHety dfimed ^ no ofAer oiAw, TH 
Ol^T WORLD ATLAS charte tl 
Univene, from the mditen core of tl 
earth to the eutMnro limits of'^sce. 

KfiP PACE WITH MAN’S 
ACHIEVEMENTS 

Scientific achievements today race fo 
ward at incredible speed. Man orbits tl 
e^ in space at 18,000 milet an hou 
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lodUity and the land in whidi we live 
Ttw aiHsi ihave r^Ue, im'UHlate map 
and infi)tmation. This ttt^nifident nei 
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yon the fimte, keep you in touoh. 

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VOLUME 84 Reader's Digest MARCH 1964 

C) 1964 by The Reader’s Digest Association Ltd 


Know Ourself! 

A recipe for the rediscovery of the zest for life 

By John Garunlk 


Nor ON'LY the most difficult 
I thing to know oneself, but the 
JL must inconvenient,” a philoso- 
pher once said. Human beings have 
always employed an enormems 
variety of clever devices for running 
away from themselves. Today we 
can keep ourselves so busy, fill our 
lives with so many diversions, stud 
our heads with so much knowledge 
and involve ourselves with so many 
people that we never have time to 
pif)bc the fearful and wonderful 
w(Mld within. More often than not 
we don’t even want to. 

Yet the ancient maxim “Know 
thyself” — s » deceptively simple- 
gains richer meaning as we learn 
more about man s nature. Research 
in psychology and psychiatry reveals 
how closely mental health is bound 
up in a reasonably objective view of 
the self, in accessibility of the self 


to consciousness, and in acceptance 
of the self 

Men and women who have be- 
come strangers to themselves can 
no longer return for sustenance to 
the springs of their own being: 
they have lost the capacity for self- 
renewal. Sometimes it happens that 
one of the major changes of life- - 
marriage, a move to a new town, a 
change of job — breaks the pattern of 
our lives and quite suddenly reveals 
to us how much we have been 
imprisoned by the comfortable w'cb 
we had woven around ourselves. It 
was a characteristic experience dur- 
ing the war that men and women, 
forced to break the pattern of their 
lives, discovered within themselves 
resources and abilities they had not 
known existed. How ironic that it 
should take war and disaster to 
bring about self-renewal ! 

3 ^ 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


Now, sclf-rcncwal is not mea- 
sured by volume of new experi- 
ences, number of new interests, nor 
by any other index of sheer activity. 
Let’s not make that mistake. People 
are already too inclined to quieten 
their anxieties with busy work. In 
everybody’s normal environnient 
there is enough depth and variety 
of human experience, enough com- 
plexity of* human interaction to 
place endlessly new demands on the 
mind and spirit. There is enough, 
provided you have the gift for con- 
stantly searching your individual 
universe with an undimmed eye and 
an unhackneyed mind. 

Why are some individuals capa-- 
blc of self-renewal while others are 
not? No one knows. But we have 
important clues to what we might 
do to foster that experience. 

Keep your horizons wide. Self- 
renewing individuals are versatile 
and adaptive. They avoid being 
trapped in the procedures and 
routines of the moment, or being 
wholly imprisoned by fixed habits 
and attitudes. As the years go by, 
most of us progressively narrow the 
scope and variety of our lives. Of all 
the interests we might pursue, we 
settle on a few. Of all the people 
with whom we might associate, we 
select a small number. Our opinions 
harden. Our ideas congeal. This 
may be an inevitable part of living, 
but it is also a kind of imprison- 
ment. 

The selective narrowing of habits 
and attitudes extends to every area 
i-2 


March 

of life. We view our familiar'^sur- 
roundings with less and less atten- 
tiveness. That is why travel can be 
such a vivid experience. It shakes us 
out of our apathy, renews our fresh- 
ness of perception, and we recapture 
in some measure^ the unspoilt 
awareness of children and artists. 

Much education today is monu- 
mentally ineffective in teaching the 
art of self-renewal All too often we 
give our young people cut flowers 
when we should teach them to grow 
their own plants. We stuff their 
heads with the products of earlier 
innovation rather than teach them 
to innovate. 

Develop your potentialities. 

Most human beings go through life 
only partially aware of the full 
range of their abilities. 

The development of abilities is at 
least in part a- dialogv;? between the 
individual and his environment,. 
Thus, any small boy with real 
ability^to wield his fists is likely to 
discover it fairly early. The little 
girl with the gift for charming 
grown-ups will have no trouble dis- 
covering that talent. But most abili- 
ties are not so readily evoked, and 
most of us have potentialities that 
never developed, simply because the 
circumstances of our lives never 
called them forth. Yet exploration 
of one’s potentialities need not be 
left to the chances of life. One can 
pursue it systematically, or at least 
avidly, to the end of one’s days. 

KiA failure. Learning is a risky 
business. In infancy, when the child 



KNOW Y0UR5ELFI 


1964 

is learning at a truly phenomenal it must be something not essentially 
rate]i he is also experiencing a shat- egocentric in nature, 
tering number of failures. Watch If you want to get back to the 
him. See the innumerable things he source of your own vitality, to be 
tries and see how little the failures refreshed and renewed, cut through 
discourage him. With each yearthat the false fronts of life and try to 
passes he will be less blithe- about understand which are the things 
failure. By middle age we carry in that you really believe in and can 
our heads a tremendous catalogue put your heart into, 
of things we have no intention of It is worth recalling the mythical 
trying again because we tried them giant, Antaeus, who wa^ invincible 
once and failed. Al^, we tend in wrestling as long as he remained 
increasingly to av9id things we in contact with the earth. Modern 
have never tried. man, in our intricately organized, 

Such fear of failure prevents ex- over-verbalized civilization, spins a 
ploration and experimentation, and web of verbal and numerical ab- 
assuf^es the progressive narrowing of stractions that finally imprisons 
personality. To keep on learning him. It is wisdom to cut through 
and growing, you must keep on such abstractions and artificialities 
risking failure — all your life. in periodic return to the solid earth 

Follow your beliefs. The walls of direct experience— <lirect contact 
that hem us in as we grow older are with nature, face-to-face relations 
really channel walls. To get out of with one’s fellow man, fashioning 
those channels of least resistance re- something with one’s own hands, 
quires some extra drive, enthusiasm Love and friendship. It is charac- 
or energy. Is it possible to do any- teristic of self-renewing people that 
thing about one’s own energy and they have mutually fruitful relations 
motivation ? The answer is, perhaps, with other human beings. They are 
Everyone has noted the astonish- capable of accepting love and capa- 
ing sources of energy that seem ble of giving it — both more difficult 
available to those who enjoy or find achievements than is commonly 
meaning in what they are doing, thought. The joys and sufferings of 
Obviously, all of us cannot spend those we love are part of our own 
all our time pursuing our deepest experience. Our lives are richer for 
convictions But all of us, either in it. But there is a larger consequence, 

our career, or home life, or part-time Love and friendship dissolve the 

activities, should be doing some- rigidities of the isolated self, forc^ 
thing about which we care deeply new perspectives. They keep in 

— one little thing that we can do working order the emotional sub- 

with burning conviction. And if we stratum on which all comprehcii- 
are to escape the prison of the self, sion of human affairs must rest. 

Condensed from an eddress by the author, who u President of the Carnegie Corporation of ) > 
New York and the Cnrnegu Fou^atton for the Advancement of Teaching 



Armchair Travelogue 


Nej^/Guinea 

he Land 
that Time 
Forgot 



By Lowell Thomas 

N 

X 1 owHERE, surely, ts there 
another land like this. Shaped like 
a dinosaur, New Guinea drags 
its 316,000-square'mile bulk across 
the top of Australia, its head to the 
west bumping the underside of the 
Equator, its mountain-spined tail 
dipping into the Coral Sea. The 
largest island on earth (except for 
Greenland), this is a land wild, 
exotic and unbelievably primitive, 
the least-explored part of the in- 
habited world. 

New Guinea’s throbbing interior 
is compounded of green mystery 
and turbulent beauty, of impene- 
trable rain forests and great gorges, 
of lush valleys and rushing rivers. 


Through its mighty forests swoop 
a hundred varieties of rare birds 
with rainbow plumage, including 
that most gorgeous of all, the bird 
of paradise. In its vast jungles are 
kangaroos that climb trees, bats 
with a wingspan of five feet, giant 
lizard.) and snakes. In its miasmal 
swamps and rivers swarm croco- 
diles, and turtles that weigh hun- 
dreds of pounds. 

This remote land mass is the last 
stronghold of Stone Age man. Fly- 
ing along the ijooo-mile-long spine 
of central New Guinea’.* jagged 
mountain ranges you look down 
into valleys where dwell people who 
live as they lived 10,000 years ago 

OnOLASO 




—hundreds of thousands of them— 
who do not know of the white 
man’s existence, who indeed have 
never suspected that there is any 
world beyond their valley’s rim. In 
many parts of Australian-controlled 
New Ciuinea an unwary stranger 
still runs the risk (rf being speared 
by head-hunter, brained by a stone 
axe, or ending up as a menu item 
for cannibals with a fondness for 
“long pig.” 

Six years ago 1 went 400 miles up 
the steamy, crocodile-infested Sepik 
and May rivers to photograph the 
life and ways of certain head-hunt- 
ing tribes. I knew I would go back 
one day, and last summer I did. 


With a camera crew 1 went deep 
into the interior of this incredible 
island. Our objective was to witness 
a spectacular event— 75,000 Stone 
Age people gathered in the mile- 
high, loo-mile-long.W’ahgi Valley 
for a roistering “big fella sing-sing” 
and a display of tribal customs as 
old as time. The gigantic festival— 
an agricultural show sponsored by 
the Australian district administra- 
tion— was centred at Mount Hagen, 
in the recently opened Western 
Highlands. 

Before dawn of opening day we 
were awakened by a wild chanting 
and drum-beating as thousands of 
tribesmen poured on to the huge 

35 



A ^'young fella mary'^ bedecked with 
plumes, thm indicates her J other's uealtk 
and also announces her availability for 
marriage 


A^ew Guinea tribesmen are the most gaudily 
decorated men on earth. These sjmt on 
thetr heads the plumage of the bird of 
paradise 


field set aside for the gathering. 
Singing, shouting, stamping, they 
flowed across the field in a surging 
flood of humanity— their faces fierce 
with tribal markings, with bones 
and boars’ tusks thrust through 
their noses, their bodies glistening 
with pig grease. All were virtually 
naked, but their head-dresses were 
the gorgeous plumage from hun- 
dreds of birds. 

As this wildly bizarre pageant 
moved round and round the field, 
the mountain air ringing with prim- 
itive chants, the earth actually shak- 
ing with the dancers’ rhythms, it 

LnwFLi Th(>m\s enjoys unique renown 
a& a world trascller, broadcaster and ad- 
venturer, a scps^mcd observer and reporter 
of history in the making. 


came to me that few modern men 
have ever witnessed a more barbaric 
scene. Even the spectators were out 
of this world. One of them had been 
dead for six months. Smoked by 
his fellow Lagaip tribesmen, he had 
been brought here because he had 
expressed a wish to attend and his 
tribe could not disappint him. 

Added to the colour was a real 
pssibility of trouble. Here were 
gathered tribes which had been 
warring for centuries. All bore 
spears, bows and arrows, stone axes; 
all were keyed up with excitement. 
But curiosity overcame belliger- 
ence. Many were seeing other tribes 
close-up for the first time. Be- 
tween dancing and sing-songs they 
milled about, ogling one another or 
gazing entranced at the exhibits, 


ranrooKAm (lrtt) vrtma jmmu, (uear) AiiUVAfi oiwnoan 



At the spectacular Mount tla^en agricultural 
skowt natives demonstrate jnr visitors and 
rival tribesmen their prowess with the bow 
and arrow 


A IVah^i highlander. Tribesmen^ who 
range in size from tiny pygmies to giants 
between six and seven feet lull, are mainly 
Melanesian in origin 


which included superior f-irm pro- 
duce, livestock, schoolw’ork anil 
handicrafts that had been taught to 
more advanced tribesmen by the 
white man. For any Stone Agcr, 
there was much to marvel at; much 
to set him thinking about things he, 
l(K), might have or might become. 

This in fact was the pur[X)se of 
the show. “What we want to do,” 
said District Commissioner Tom 
Ellis, “is to break down their insu- 
larity, let them see how c(H)pcration 
with the government can expand 
their lives, bring them law and 
order, health— al»vc all, jx:acc.” 

Besides these 75,000, how many 
Stone Agers arc there in this land 
that time forgot.^ Nobody knows 

• See ‘*Thc 'Can Do’ Language," The 
Header's Digcat, November 1963 . 


for sure. New pockets of humanity 
are constantly being discovered. But 
in Australian New Guinea alone 
(the eastern half of the island, con- 
sisting of Australian-owned Papua 
and the Australian-administered 
Trust Territory) there arc at least 
two million. Of native languages 
and dialects there .arc hundreds, 
though casy-to-learn pidgin English 
provides a basis for communication 
among the more literate tribes.* 
Strange and barbaric customs per- 
sist, only the more lethal of which 
the government tries to put down, 
having no wish, as Native Affairs 
Director Keith McCarthy puts it 
“to make sun-browned Europeans 
of these people. They must preserve 
their own identity and as much of 
their culture as will help them.” 

UTOV UIOOLS ym 



THE READER^S DIGEST 


March 


Government patrol officers try to 
root out cannibalism in areas which 
they have brought under control. 
(Anthropologists claim that eating 
“man meat” comes mostly from 
protein deficiency; edible wild- 
animal life is scarce in New 
Guinea.) Yet there is evidence 
aplenty that ritual cannibalism is 
still practised among some tribes, as 
among the*dread Kukukukus, who 
eat the arm and leg muscles of slain 
enemies to gain the dead men’s 
strength. Only a few years ago two 
Australian patrol officers at Tele- 
fomin were speared to death, one 
hacked to pieces and eaten. 

The fiction of the “happy 
savage,” content in all his ways, is 
pretty but untrue. From the hour 
he is born, the average New (Juinea 
tribesman lives with fear and death 
— from his enemies, from a variety 
of diseases, from sorcery in a hun- 
dred forms. The Spirits of his an- 
cestors, all about him, have to be 
appeased in case they bring sickness 
and death. 

To keep ancestral spirits in a good 
mood, some tribes build l-irge and 
elaborate tamberans or “spirit 
houses” like one I saw beside the 
Scpik River in 1957. 
long and as high as a four-storey 
building, resting on massive posts 
with the floor six feet above ground. 
Its inside columns were carved wi»^h 
birds and grotesque figures, and 
high overhead hung weird masks 
and human skulls. 

The tradition has always been 


that when a tamberan's first post- 
hole is dug a human being must be 
put in alive and then the great pole 
dropped on to him. 

Some tribes hang the skulls of 
their ancestors in net bags on the 
walls of their houses. In at least one 
tribe, the Azera, a widow eschews 
all adornment save the skull of her 
deceased husband, which is hung 
from her neck. Others use the skulls 
of dear ones for pillows. 

Boys are taught to bear pain 
stoically. CJirls have things easier-— 
at first. Until marriage, usually in 
her early teens, a “young fella 
mary” lives a gay and uninhibited 
life, paints her face, adorns herself 
with shells and feathers, and awaits 
the best bid for marriage. Once 
married, however, she becomes a 
drudge, tending gardens, carrying 
firewood, cooking, making nets and 
baskets. Polygamy is common; it is 
not objected to by a wife, for the 
more wives sharing a husband the 
less work there is for each. 

Marriage is an important eco- 
nomic event. The value of gifts 
given for a “young fella mary” in 
gcKjd Iiealth may be as high as Rs. 
2, (XX) in pigs, shells, axes and spearr. 
Sometimes a bride is stolen or 
captured from a rival tribe. “Mary 
stealing,” along with pig stealing, 
IS the cause of most tribal vendettas. 

Ever since 1527, when the Span- 
iard Don Jorge de Mcneses landed 
on New Guinea’s hostile beaches, 
explorers, traders and adventurers 
have come and gone. But few ever 



}^EW GUINEA- -THE LAND THAT TIME FORGOT 


17^4 

dared go more than a few miles in- 
land. Only in the last 30 years has 
there been any serious effort to find 
out what lay behind the island's 
wild jumble of mountains. 

It was the magic cry of “Gold!” 
that lifted the first veil. Rumours 
that the alluring metal lay beyond 
the ranges began after the First 
World War, and adventurers 


to go in to rescue and control them, 
and to the missionaries who in- 
evitably followed, belongs the credit 
for opening up the glorious New 
Guinea highlands. 

Many of these pioneers can still 
be found around the bars of Port 
Moresby, Lae, Madang, Goroka 
and Mount Hagen, or settled on 
comfortable ranches. We met, for 


CHINA 

■ ‘- i a' ‘ *»*'“■* > lulmu' 




‘ ^ ^* *•*'* y ^ Mt. 

• ; > r • Nfew-" 

: oOTNEA<-)%, 

^ A-UV^'fAiyA . 


trekked in. Few ever came out. One 
who did w.is a colourful character 
naiiicd ‘‘Sharkeyc” Park, an Aus- 
tralian miner. Sharkeyc plunged 
into the heavily jungled Kuper 
Range and after surviving Kuku- 
kuku attacks, found his rainbow’s 
end — the fabulously rich gold strike 
at Koranga Creek, near Bulolo. 

The discovery started a stampede. 
To those gold-fevered men, to the 
government patrol officers who had 


example, the incredible Leahy 
brothers, who bear on their bodies 
the scars of innumerable near-fatal 
spearings. Among the first at Edie 
Creek, they fought off Kukukukus 
with one hand while panning gold 
with the other. Then, fighting their 
way hundreds of miles deeper into 
the highlands, they became in 1933 
the first white men to set eyes on 
the great undreamed-of Wahgi Val 
ley. Here, from Ewunga Creek. 

39 



THE READER’S DIGEST 


March 


Michael and Dan Leahy eventually 
took out Rs. 9 lakhs* worth of 
placer gold. 

Michael Leahy, now 6o, lives at 
Zenag, where he has some 1,200 
head of beef catdc. Dan, 50, re- 
mains in the Wahgi Valley, where 
he has a beautiful 1,500-acre planta- 
tion. To the sons of natives who 
once tried to kill him he teaches the 
art of coffee-growing, encouraging 
ihem to start small plantations of 
their own. 

Australia is making a mammoth 
effort to bring the Stone Age people 
into the twentieth century. Heroes 
in the effort are the young patrol 
officers. Learning of a pocket of 
people not yet contacted, a patrol 
officer strikes out for the area, ac- 
companied only by a few native 
assistants, interpreters and bearers. 
His job is to establish friendly rela- 
tions and eventually persuade the 
savages to stop tribal warfare and 
accept the authority of the white 
man’s government. It is often a case 
of one man facing as many as 
io,ouo. The job requires not only 
physical hardihood and bravery but 
tact and a knowledge of native cus- 
toms and culture. 

Says 28-ycar-old patrol officer 
David Hook, “Going in, you have 
to be ready to be attacked. If there 
are no women and children around, 
you*d better look out. You may have 
to pull back, try again a day or a 
week later. But as soon as possible 
you summon the village elders, tell 
them firmly, ‘Government he 
40 


strong-fella too much. But he no 
Hke iightim you-fella; he like shake 
hands. Government he say you-fella 
no can killim other fella. Fighting 
he must finish.’ If they reach for 
their spears, you use your gun— 
preferably you shoot a pig, to 
demonstrate the power of the gun. 

“That setded, you make it plain 
that government is prepared to 
bring them many good things. You 
open your box of trade items, such 
as steel axes, shells, salt; show them 
seeds that will make new crops. 
Your native medical aide treats their 
ills, promises them in time a medi- 
cal station. Eventually you work 
out with village elders a set of laws 
based not only on Australian laws 
but on their own codes as well, ap- 
pointing their head man as luluai 
(government representative). You 
return at intervals to settle disputes 
among them and with other tribes.” 

Hook’s station at Kopiago — the 
most recently opened station in the 
high Central Range — is a model of 
what can be done. Though in a ter- 
ritory still unopened even to mis- 
sionaries, Dave Hook and his beau- 
tiful young wife, Christine, have 
already largely put an end to figh»^- 
ing and murders; they have started 
schools and farms, introduced such 
crops as maize, peanuts, cabbage, 
beans, peas, lettuce, tomatoes and 
new varieties of sweet potatoes; and 
improved the people’s protein-short 
diet with chickens and better pig 
stock. 

Missionaries, too, have helped to 



i 96 ^ NEty GUINEA^-THE LAND- THAT TIME FORGOT 


bring New Guinea’s Stone Agers 
a better life. At Mount Hagen you 
can meet the remarkable 68-year- 
old Father William Ross, a priest 
who went out to New Guinea in 
1926 and has been there ever since. 

A miniature of a man (fivc-foot- 
one) with a flowing white beard, 
bright gleaming eyes and a joyous 
spirit, Ross is an ethnic authority 
on this part of New Guinea. He 
was in the Wahgi Valley four 
years before any government officer 
arrived. “In those days, believe me, 
we weren’t saving souls; we were 
saving ourselves,” he says. “Our 
preachment was simply, ‘Love thy 
neighbour. Don’t whack him with 
an axe. Don’t pierce him with a 
spear. Don’t steal his mary.’ ” 

When Father Ross came to New 
Guinea, he was the only Roman 
Catholic priest in the Territory; 
now there are more than 750, and 
934 Protestant missionaries. 

Since the war, Australia has 
made a great contribution in New 
Guinea. In 1946 there were no 
government-operated schools at all; 
today there are 398 primary, 20 
secondary and 20 technical schools, 
wuh more than 46,000 students en- 
rolled. In agriculture, tens of thou- 
sands of natives are being taught 
better farming methods. A pro- 
gramme for roads is being pushed 
forward. 

Local government councils are 
being formed in each localiw as 
rapidly as patrol and district ofneers 
Ctin impart the first glimmerings 


of the democratic elective process. 
Each council then elects its native 
rcjircsentatives to the legislative 
council in the capital at Port 
Moresby. Local councils now num- 
ber 78, representing nearly half the 
Territory’s population. By 1967, 
predicts Native Affairs Director 
McCarthy, almost the whole popu- 
lation will be represented. “In 
another 25 years,” he* says, “we’ll 
have these people ready to rule 
themselves. For all their primitive 
background, they are intelligent; 
they catch on fast.” 

But will Australia be given the 25 
years'^ Some nations in the U.N. 
have been clamouring for “self-de- 
termination” for all Trust Terri- 
tories, however unready. After In- 
donesia’s recent successful grab of 
Dutch New Guinea — when the 
U.N. surrendered to Indonesian 
President Sukarno’s bluff and blus- 
ter — Australians asked, “How soon 
will t 4 /e be driven out?” 

However, Australia’s Prime Min- 
ister Sir Robert Menzies has an- 
nounced, “We will defend both 
Papua and New Guinea as if they 
were part of our mainland; there 
must be no mistaken idea about 
that.” To which tough, able District 
Commissioner Ellis adds, “To aban- 
don these people would bring chaos 
such as would make the Congo 
seem a picnic. The time we ask to 
finish the job is not unreasonable. 
After all, what other people in 
history have been expected to 
come so far .so fast?” 



I lli'covcrcd 
iVoii! a Stroke 

A remarkable triumph 
over the affliction which, 
until recently, 
led only to invalidism 


By J\MFS WiNCIffcSTER 


r HE FIRST Saturday morning 
I of January last year 1 awoke 
early, before dawn. As I 
moved to get out of bed, my right 
side seemed heavy. Trying to lift 
my right arm and leg, 1 found them 
almost wooden. Levering myself, 1 
managed to stand, totter across the 
room to the bathroom. There I 
leaned weakly against the door, ex- 
hausted. 

I had a feeling of bewilderment 
rather than panic. “What’s the mat- 
ter.^’’ I kept asking myself. My first 
thought had been that my leg and 
arm had “gone to sleep.” But there 


was no prickling or tingling sensa 
tion. 

Awkwardly, almost tripping, I 
lurched back to the bed, where 1 
sat down. Still no pain, only an 
immense weariness. I nudged my 
wife. Sleepily, she wanted to know 
what was the matter. Trying to 
explain to her, 1 became conscious 
of a difficulty in my speech. It was 
not so much that I touldn’t express 
myself as that I seemed to have to 
shape my words before speaking 
them. It was rather like trying to 
talk through puiTed-up lips after 
being hit hard on thci mouth. 


Condensed from Family Weekly 


4 ^ 



I RECOVERED FROM A STROKE 


My wife, now fully awake, tele- 
phoned our doctor. By the time he 
arrived, an hour later, my right arm 
and hand were completely immo- 
bile. I could just barely wiggle the 
toes on my right foot. With my 
weariness came a mounting anxiety 
—not about anything in particular, 
just an overriding uneasiness. 

1 had had a stroke. I was lucky 
that it came when it did. Only a 
dozen years ago, little could have 
been offered me except chronic in- 
validism and kind words. Today, 
much can be done. Tve now just 
about conquered my stroke. Only 
eight months after my attack, I 
could work a full day, speak effort- 
lessly, walk nearly normally, and 
had regained three-quarters use of 
my leg and arm. 

Until my stroke 1 , like most 
people, thought that these accidents 
happened mainly to the elderly. I’m 
only 45, but stroke in my age group, 
I found, is common. High-tension 
jobs, so often blamed, really haven’t 
much to do with it. Only 3-5 per 
cent of several hundred stroke vic- 
tims whose eases were studied at 
the New York University-Bcllcvue 
Medical Centre had been stricken 
under circumstances that might be 
described as acute stress. More than 
four times as many housewives as 
professional people were involved. 

I’he word “stroke” has no precise 
meaning. It is just a way of indicat- 
ing the symptoms of cerebrovascu- 
lar accident— obstruction of the 
circulation of the blood to or in the 


brain by haemorrhage, by narrow- 
ing of an arteriosclerotic blood 
vessel, or by clot. 

If the stoppage of blood (which 
supplies vital oxygen to brain tis- 
sues) last even a few minutes, it is 
enough to kill the tissues affected 
and knock out the things they 
command — leg or arm movements, 
speech and memory. If the damaged 
tissues arc on the Ic^ side of the 
brain, the right side of the body is 
stricken, and vice versa. The extent 
of the injury depends on which 
region of the brain is affected, and 
how widely. Speech is controlled 
by a small piece of tissue called 
“Broca’s Area.” When this area is 
only lightly damaged, there is just 
a slurring of words, which usually 
clears up in a few days, as it did 
in my case. 

At the Northern Westchester Hos- 
pital, in Mfuint Kisco, New York, 
where I was taken by ambulance 
from my home, specialists deter- 
mined the cause of my stroke : the 
high blood pressure I have had for 
years had ruplureff a weakened part 
of an artery in my brain, causing 
haemorrhage. Because I was not un- 
conscious, and because m) speech, 
while slurred, was not seriously 
affected, the doctors reasoned that 
the bleeding was not extensive, that 
nature itself had already stepped in 
to start patching the hole. This v.as 
backed up by the lack of any blood 
in my spinal fluid. 

Until just a few years ago, doctors 
generally thought that all strokes 

43 



THE READER^S DIGEST 


March 


were caused, as mine was, by blood- 
vessel accidents inside the brain it- 
self. But, in the early 1950’s, Dr. 
C. Miller Fisher, of Harvard Uni- 
versity Medical School, studying 
432 routine hospital post-mortems, 
found in about ten per cent that one 
or both carotid arteries had been 
narrowed or clotted to such an ex- 
tent that tissues in the brain were 
deprived of hounshment. This in- 
dicated that many strokes were 
caused by previously unrecognized 
occlusions in one or more of the 
four neck arteries supplying blood 
to the brain. This was quickly ruled 
out as a cause of my stroke by tests 
that showed the blood pressure in 
my neck arteries to be normal. In 
cases where the neck arteries arc in- 
volved, dramatic new surgical pro- 
cedures arc now being developed. 

Shortly after Dr, Fisher’s demon- 
stration that not all strokes originate 
in the brain, science perfected a non- 
toxic radio-opaque aye which could 
be injected into the circulatory sys- 
tem. By using rapid-fire X-ray 
equipment, it became possible to 
follow the dye — which shows up 
white on the X-ray film — through 
the arteries. Where there is a block, 
a dark shadow appears. 

This diagnostic tool enabled Dr. 
Michael DcBakcy, of Baylor Uni- 
versity, Texas, to develop surgical 
methods for correcting a clogged 
neck artery. He removes the fatty 
clot which has narrowed the artery 
channel and further enlarges the 
passage by means of a Dacron patch. 

44 


Or, when the blockage is extensive, 
instead of cutting away the obstruc- 
tion, he inserts a Dacron artery 
graft to bypass it. Since 1954, Dr. 
DeBakey and his associates have 
operated on several hundred stroke 
patients with artery blockage in 
neck or upper chest, and such sur- 
gery IS now being performed at 20 
major medical centres in an evalua- 
tion-study of its benefits in com- 
parison with results of non-surgical 
treatment of stroke patients. 

But the most practical advances in 
treatment and prevention of stroke 
arc the new drugs—those that re- 
tard blood-clot formation and those 
that lower and control high blood 
pressure. A recent report to the 
American Heart Association largely 
credits the latter drugs with a 22 
per cent diop in the death rate from 
strokes among white American 
males in the 45-tO'64 age group. 
The anticoagulants, used to retard 
clot formation, may bcx)si a stroke 
patient’s chances for survival by 
nearly onc-third, according lo a five- 
year study at New York Hospital- 
Cornell and New York University- 
Bcllevue medical centres. In a Mayo 
Clinic study of patients in whom 
incipient stroke was diagnosed, the 
drugs appeared to reduce the actual 
incidence of stroke due to clotting 
by 36 per cent. 

Two years ago, when my blood 
pressure shot above the 200 mark 
and I had to spend a short time in 
hospital, I was given the new drugs 
to help lower and control it. They 



/ RECOVERED FROM / STROKh 


1964 

worked well, but left me severely 
depressed. Against my doctor’s 
advice, I stopped taking them. My 
blood pressure shot back skyward, 
and my stroke appears to have been 
the result. Now I’m taking them 
again — two aspirin-size tablets a day 
—and I’m determined tj keep on 
doing so. 

Once a patient has had a stroke, 
however, he discovers that the real 
miracle worker is rehabilitation. 
Stroke no longer means the end of 
a person’s useful life — if rehabilita- 
tion begins early enough. Exercise 
of seemingly useless muscles must 
begin at once, since inactivity can 
be more harmful than the original 
damage caused by the stroke. At 
First the muscles and nerves in 
p.iralyscd parts of the Inidy arc as 
good as ever; only their control 
centres in the brain arc damaged. 
But muscle and nerve deterioration 
sets in quickly when the victim is 
immobile. Other things happen, 
loo: tirculalion slows down; cal- 
cium leaves the bones; the patient 
can quickly acquire the attitude 
that he is an invalid. 

I was sitting up in bed the first 
d.iy after my stroke. On the second, 
I was standing, assisted, though my 
leg was completely paralysed. That 
same day, the hospital’s physio- 
therapist began exercising my 
muscles with gende massage every 
two or three hours, although I still 
couldn’t move them myself. Before 
the end of the week, with help, I 
was making my way across the 


room to the bathrcxim. Every day I 
sat m a chair while my bed was 
being made. 

Says Dr. Howard Rusk, who 
heads the New York University- 
Bellevue Institute for Physical Med- 
icine and Rehahilitatioh, where I 
was transferred for mtcnsice physio- 
therapy ten days after mv attack : 
‘‘If simple physical therapy begins 
within the first week after a stroke, 
most victims can be walking and 
taking care of themselves in six to 
eight weeks, sometimes sooner.” 

The best thing the family can do 
for stroke patients, I learned, is not 
to treat them as invalids. My wife, 
bless her, assumes that I can do 
anything. Somehow, though, she 
always seems to be around when 
I’m putting on a shirt, and it’s just 
natural when she casually helps me 
with the cuff button on my left 
sleeve. I don’t feel dependent. Be- 
lieve me, that’s important. 

■Recovery for a stroke victim isn’t 
easy for either the patient or his 
family. Physically, the patient may 
look and feel fine;^ But a part of 
the brain has been destroyed. Only 
nature and time can train new 
tissilies to take over. Until they do, 
there are bound to be emotional 
changes. For example, during the 
recovery period, stroke victims are, 
almost without exception, irritable 
and snappy, and likely to cry easily. 

1 spent over two months under 
Dr. Rusk’s supervision, and still get 
hospital-administered physiotherapy 
for two hours a day, three times .. 

45 



THE READERS DIGEST 


week. I’ve been most fortunate in 
such care. Hut excellent results can 
be achieved at home. No exercise 
should ever be attempted without 
specific instructions, however, or 
without regular checkups by your 
doctor. 

Many common household items 
are better for exercising than ex- 
pensive contrivances, ^rly on, 1 
practised diking by using the 
backs of two chairs, sliding them 
over the kitchen linoleum in the 
same rhythm the arms normally 
follow when a person moves. 
“Much better than crutches,” says 
'Dr. Rusk. 

Opening a sealed tin bf coffee is 
a good exercise for strengthening 
the wrist and finger muscles. Also, 
I play cards with my family every 


evening. At first I couldn’t pick the 
cards off the table with my weak- 
ened fingers, much less hold them. 
Now I can even shuffle a pack, after 
a fashion. I’m practising penman- 
ship with my bad hand daily, doing 
several minutes of old-fashioned 
loops and ups-and-downs, as 1 did at 
school. Plain walking, particularly 
up and down stairs, is just about 
the best therapy for a stricken 

leg- 

For the stroke patient, the ability 
to do things even half-way normally 
is a powerful incentive to get well. 
Recently, I met an old acquaintance 
who didn't know I’d been ill. His 
first words were, “I haven’t seen 
you looking so well for years.” He 
refused to believe me when I told 
him what had happened. 



Ruler of the House 

^t/sr the measurement of a room in our house and my wife will tell 
you it is 3J4 by Freds. What’s a Fred? I’m a Frerf— all 72 inches 
of me. If my wife lo.st me she would be losing more than just a husband; 
she would be losing two yardsticks. 

There are several ways of arriving at a hall-Fred, but my wife finds 
that if a chalk line made at a point where my head ends, as I lie ex- 
tended beside a wall, coincides with my belt buckle after I have snaked 
my way to the end of the wall, a half-Fred is accomplished. Perhaps it 
would be easier to buy a tape measure, but in our family a tape measure 
is easily lost and, once lost, it’s lost A misplaced husband will come 
back when he’s hungry. — Frea Bachmdnn 



Everything 

Stops 


for 

TEA 

The sh)ry of one 
of Britain s 
national 
institutions— the 
tea break 


By Leslie Hannon 


AT Ai'PROXIMATELY tCIl in thc 

,'Jk morning and three in the 
X ^ afternoon of each weekday, 
the British nation comes to a stand- 
still for ten fully-paid minutes while 
some 23 million workers in shops, 

Adaptfd from m article by Leslie 


offices, mines and factories partici 
pate m the traditional rite of thc 
tea break. 

In one year, the devotees of this 
ritual will sip 850 million gallons of 
tea — enough to float 50 ships the 
size of thc Queen Elizabeth. 

Many employers wonder if these 
cups of tea arc really necessary. Two 
ten-minute tea breaks a day add up 
to two working weeks’ tea-drinking 
a year — with pay. But thc tea break 
has become a jealously-guarded 
right, and strikes often follow any 
managerial encroachment on it. A 
tea break is written into union 
agreements in many major indus- 
tries, including car manufacturing, 
cement, glass and pottery, railway 
workshops, and building. 

When bricklayer Edward But- 
cher was sacked for taking an un- 
schedufed tea bre<ak while working 
on London’s Hilton Hotel, men 
instantly walked off thc job in sym- 
pathy. '‘Having a cup of tea is a 
right that no one is going to take 

Lteber in Thii Week Maganne 


47 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


away/’ said Butcher when he was 
taken on again a week later. 

In 1961, Ford’s 37,000-worker 
lant at Dagenham, Essex, was 
rought to a standstill by an unoffi- 
cial stoppage in protest against a 
union agreement to cut the morning 
tea break to five minutes. 

The same year, more than 1,000 
plumbers, painters, tilers and wood- 
workers from Mersey building sites 
marched in protest through the 
streets of Liverpool. “Hands Off 
Our Tea Break,” read the placards. 
“Pay as you Urn.” Construction 
companies had ruled that the men 
must not leave the job to get tea 
from canteens and near-by cafes. 
Similar tea-break strikes spread to 
Sunderland, Hull, Nottingham and 
London — where pickets successfully 
halted all work on the reconstruc- 
tion of, No. 10 Downing Street, the 
Prime Minister’s residence. 

How did the tea break become 
such a national institution? Here 
are some milestones that led Britain 
into first place among the world’s 
tea-drinkers. 

China, 27^7 bc. The legendary 
Emperor Shen Nung, known as the 
Divine Healer, always had his 
drinking water boiled. One day 
unnoticed by the cooks, some leaves 
from an overhanging bush fell into 
the pot. When he tasted the infused 
water, the Emperor found it mar- 
vellously refreshing and insisted 
that the same leaves, from the wild 
tea bush, be added to his drinking 
water thereafter. 

48 


Amsterdam, a.d. 1610, The wife 
of a Dutch merchant trading with 
the East sent an English friend a 

E ound of the tcha her husband 
rought home from Cathay. The 
Englishwoman cooked the leaves 
and served them to her guests with 
butter, salt and pepper. Trend- 
setters of the time were soon infus- 
ing the drink and storing it in 
barrels to be drawn off and warmed 
up to order. 

Folkestone, Kent, ijoo. On moon- 
less nights, cutters from Holland 
lay offshore while Kentish* smug- 
glers ferried home boxes of contra- 
band tea. The government,, had 
clapped so much duty on tea im- 
ported from the Continent at it//. 
(less than Rs. 1) a pound that the 
London price became 20s, (Rs. 
13*3)— the wages of a farm labourer 
for a month. 

Peterborough, ig6o. The F. Per- 
kins diesel engine company ^ re- 
ported that it had mechanised the 
tea break, using Britain’s first tea- 
vending machines. Perkins’ 7,000 
workers now have continual access 
to 39 machines sited near their work 
benches. 

Today the tea-machine business 
in Britain is booming. In 1961, one 
vending company sold one million 
cups of tea during the year; in 1962, 
the same amount was sold in a 
single month. The tea break — that 
traditional, well-sugared sweetener 
of the day’s work — has become one 
of British industry’s most precious 
fringe benefits. 



)'oh iirr rjnymi^ in uhtr 
h,).h\ t,i(hr,\ nbiliiNits I ho! 
'jirn- Iki f: 'iiiUt'ins of 
y^-on ./>'.< in ‘!i(' l'('ry 

I r'\ 

The Amazing 
Biography of an Atom 


(' ‘"HIS IS the profile of a single 
I atom: its looks and its birth, 
Ji: its career and its place in the 
world. Of the lOo or so different 
kinds of atoms, it seems natural to 
choose the one that enters most 
intimately into the processes of life. 
So I shalkchoosc an atom of carbon, 
because the cells of all living things 


By Dr. J. Brokowsri 

are full of carbon atoms. So far as 
we know, there cannot be life 
anywhere in the universe without 
them. 

Of all the carbon atoms in the 
universe, I shall choo.se one in your 
body; an atom in the sex chromo- 
somc-X, one of the minute heredity- 
determining bodies which your 


Condensed from The Seu York Times Atagazine 


MACROCOSM AND 
MICROCOSM 

The exploding galaxy spews 
out uncountable trillions 
of atoms into the universe 
from such an explosion one 
atom of carbon found its way 
to earth, and there ultimately 
became part of one of the two sex 
chromosomes, marked by 
arrows, among the 46 
chromosomes of a single female 
human cell {inset at right) 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


March 


mother passed on to you at the 
moment you were conceived, and 
which has lain snugly in one of your 
cells from that day to this. 

What does a carbon atom look 
like ? Nobody knows. Nobody 
knows what any kind of atom looks 
like. It is too small to be seen. So 
we must ask, instead: What are 
the parts that make up the carbon 
atom? And^.how arc the parts put 
together ? 

An atom of any substance is the 
smallest piece which is character- 
istic of that substance and of nothing 
else. But all atoms — whether hydro- 
gen or oxygen or carbon or gold or 
uranium — ^are put together from the 
same smaller fundamental particles. 
Of these, three arc the most impor- 
tant. They are : protons (electrically 

ATOM OF HYDROOEN 
ELECTRON 

PROTON 


ATOM OF MEUUil 

ELECTRON 

O 



50 



positive), neutrons (electrically neu- 
tral) and electrons (electrically 
negative). 

Moreover, all atoms have essen- 
tially the same structure. At the 
centre there is a heavy kernel or 
nucleus made up of protons and 
neutrons tightly bound together; 
on the outskirts are the electrons, 
in constant movement, circling the 
nucleus much as planets circle the 
sun. 

The only difference in atoms lies 
in the number of particles from 
which they are assembled. Each has 
a characteristic number. The nu- 
cleus of hydrogen, for example, has 
one proton; the nucleus of helium 
has two protons (and usually two 
neutrons), and so on up the ladder 
of nature’s 100 kinds of atoms. 

The nucleus of carbon comes 
sixth on this ladder; it has six 
protons and, usually, six neutrons. 
Around this nucleus circle six 
electrons. 

Because the nucleus has a positive 



THE AMAZING BIOGRAPHY OF AN ATOM 


1964 

electric charge, and the electrons 
around it are electrically negative, 
the two attract each other, and there 
is no urge for the whole atom to fly 
apart.* The atom I have picked out 
in your X-chromosome is con- 
structed like this. 

But where does the character of 
the carbon atom lie? What is it 
about this structure that is charac- 
teristic of carbon and nothing else? 

Must it have all six electrons, for 
example ? No. Some of the electrons 
may wander off, or they may all be 
stripped away, and yet the nucleus 
will still remain carlran. Then must 
there be exactly six neutrons in the 
nucleus? No. There are variants 
(isotopes) of carbon which contain 
one or two additional neutrons. The 
character of carbon lies in one num- 
ber only. To be carbon, an atom 

* Thing! are different inside the nucleus. 
There the electrically positive protons ought 
to repel one another and fly opart. They do 
not. Something joins them — we do not know 
how or what. However, uhen a nucleus is 
split, uc can sometimes see this inner force 
fly out and solidify for an instant mto small 
particles that are heavier than electrons but 
lighter than protons or neutrons. Called 
mesons, these extraordinary particles (even 
physiLists el’ll! them “strange”) live less than 
a millionth of a second before they disappear, 
yet ssieiitists believe that they do have some 
reality inside the nucleus. 


HCAVr HYCmOOBN NUCIEI FUSIMQ 
TO MAKE A HEUUM NUCIEII8 

I 

CO 

00 

t 


must have six protons in its nucleus, 
neither more nor less. 

How did the atom of carbon 
come to be constructed.? Was it 
literally put together from its parts.? 
The answer is yes. This atom has a 
history, and a remarkable one. Long 
before it came to earth on its cosmic 
journey from the infinite spaces to 
your X-chromosomc, it was born in 
three violent stages. 

The birth began^in a young star. 
A young star is a mass of hydrogen 



Dr Iacob Bronowsri is both scientist and man of 
letters Once a professor of mathematics, he became 
Director-General of Process Development ^or 
Britain’s National Coal Board in 1959. In January 
he was appointed Resident Life Fellow of the Salk 
Institute for Biological Studies at San Diego, Cali- 
fornia He has written verse, biographies, radio play- 
and scientific works that have won critical acclaim. 

5 ^ 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


March 


nuclei — that is, of protons — and be- 
cause the star is hot, die protons are 
moving about very fast. From time 
to time, one proton runs headlong 
into another and overcomes the 
electrical repulsion between them. 
When this happens, one of the pro- 
tons loses its electric charge and 
changes into a neutron, and the pair 
cling together as a single nucleus of 
a substance* called deuterium, or 
heavy hydrogen. This nucleus will 
in time capture another proton and 
neutron; it then becomes a nucleus 
of helium. This is the fundamental 


THREE HEUUM NUCLEI FUSING TO 
MAKE A CARBON NUCLEUS 






process of fusion in the stars by 
which the primitive hydrogen of the 
universe is built up into a new basic 
material, helium. And it is the hrst 
stage in the birth of the heavier 
atoms. 

After several hundred million 
years, the star — now no longer 
young — is almost all helium. Now 
the helium atoms begin to run into 
one another. Lv'cry so often, not just 
two but three helium atoms crash 
together at the same moment. This 
is the second and critical stage of 
birth — the moment when the car- 
bon nucleus is truly born. The atom 
of carbon whose biography we are 
considering was born by this extra- 
ordinary treble coincidence millions 
ot years ago. 

How then did the carbon atom 
get to earth? The ageing star went 
on building up carbon atoms and 
other heavier atoms from its helium. 
In time, crowded with heavy atoms, 
it exploded. The carbon and other 
atoms were scattered through space 
and became mixed with the thin sea 
of hydrogen which fills space. 

Later, when a fresh star began to 
form from this hydrogen, it caught 
up some of the carbon and other 
atoms with it. There are fresh stars 
being formed like this all the time; 
one of these fresh stars was the sun, 
formed three or four thousand mil- 
lion years ago. Some time after that, 
a cosmic accident pulled the earth 
and the other planets out of the sun. 
Your carbon atom was part of that 
vast hot tongue of matter, which, 


52 



THE AMAZING HKKiU imV Ol- .IN .ITGM 


0^64 

when it cooled down, made the 
planets. That was the third violent 
stage in the birth of every carbon 
atom on earth. 

Your carbon atom has been un- 
changed ever since. It has been part 
of many different things, dead and 
alive, in that time. But always it has 
remained the same carbon atom. 

At one time your carbon atom 
may have been part of a diamond — 
a pure crystal of carbon and nothing 
else. Then it may have been rubbed 
off, and joined with two atoms of 
oxygen to form carbon dioxide. The 
carbon dioxide would have been 
breathed into the leaves of a plant, 
and there turned into sugar. That 
plant was perhaps eaten by a cow. 
One of your forefathers may have 
drunk the milk of that cow, or eaten 
a steak from it, and the carbon atom 
might have been in cither. 

In the body of your forefather, the 
carbon atom slipped into one of his 
chromosomes, which pass hereditary 
instructions from parent to child. In 
time it became part of one of the 
two X-chromosomes which your 
mother carried in many cells and so 
sbpped into the ovum from which 
you grew. You, in turn, may yet 
pass this atom on to a child. 

If the carbon atom is still in your 
body when you die, it will return to 
the soil, and there a plant may take 
It up again in time, sending it once 
more on a cycle of plant and animal 
life. Next time this carbon atom en- 
ters a human body, it may form part 
of a bone or a firgcrnail or a strand 



of hair. I'hen it m.iy get into the air 
again as carbon dioxide, and pass in 
and out of the luilgs of human be- 
ings for thousands of years. The air 
in a man’s lungs at any moment con- 
tains 10,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 
atoms, so that sooner or later every 
one of us breathes an atom that has 
been breathed before by any one 
you can think of w^ho’ has ever 
lived — Michelangelo or George 
Washington or Moses. Your car- 
bon atom will be breathed by some 
genius of the future. 

And further on, in a more distant 

5 ^ 



THE READER^S DIGEST 


time, your carbon atom may get 
into the bloodstream of an animal 
that has not yet evolved. There- 
after, it may return again to the soil 
and lie dormant in some mineral for 
millions of years. And, in time, its 
cycle of life may begin again. 

Will this cycle ever end? We do 
not know. Your carbon atom has 
been unchanged, as an atom, for 
4,000 million years and more, 
and there is no reason why it 
should not go on for ever. Even if 
the earth is burned up at last by the 
sun, your carbon atom may go back 


into space and be swept again into 
some fresh star. 

In a star, and only in a star, can 
its identity at last disappear. There 
it may be broken apart by violent 
atomic collisions and its pieces built 
into other atoms. 

Then, and only then, will the 
career of your carbon atom be at 
an end. Like you, it will have died 
as an individual. But, like you, it 
wiir survive its death, and be- 
come, perhaps, part of the life of 
a new individual — part of new 
atoms with a new identity. 


The Virtue of Ugliness 

In London, go to that most interesting museum, the National Portrait 
* Gallery. There you will find portraits of all the men who for the last 400 
years have been important in every profession in England. You will be 
struck by their prevailing ugliness— great archbishops, distinguished 
scholars, statesmen and men of affairs. 

Ugliness has positive moral values. First, the man 'afflicted with it is 
thereby deprived of a too-casy success in love; this deprivation spurs him 
all the more eagerly to conquer — he has only the brilliance of his accom- 
plishments by which to please. 

Moreover, ugliness in a man, if it accompanies strength, almost always 
prejudices one in its favour. His superiors rarely have a feeling of jealousy 
towards a really ugly man; nor are th^y indifferent to him. One remembers 
unusual featui'es rather than a handsome but commonplace head. 

— ^Andr£ Maurois 


♦ ♦ ♦ 


Help Tourself 

When I was young, I wanted everything and all at once, until our 
old Scottish minister explained things like this : 

One night he dreamed that he saw a new shop in the High Street. He 
went in, and saw an angel behind the counter. Nervously he asked what 
the shop sold. “Everything your heart desires,” the angel said. 

“Then I want peace on earth,” cried the minister, “an end to sorrow, 
famine and disease . . .” 

“Just one moment,” smiled the angel. “You haven't quite understood. 
We don’t sell fruits here — only seeds.” —Contributed by M. L. Orataick 


54 





Repea tThreeTimes 
Rapidly” 


By Chakles Francis Potter 


I USED to regard tongue twisters 
merely as a childish pastime of 
my boyhood, which our elders 
permitted because these oral tricks 
were supposed to teach us to speak 
carefully. However, since I started 
collecting them I have found that 
they perform many more func- 
tions. 

An opera singer wrote to tell me 
that twisters are a part of her daily 
practice grind. Radio announcers, 
I am told, are often required to 
recite difficult twisters as tests; for 
instance : 

The seething sea ceaseth and thus 
sufficeth us. 

To make her mouth small, one 
woman was told when a litdc girl 
to purse her lips and say: 

Fanny Finch fried five flounder- 
ing fish for Francis’s father. 

One man credits “She sells sea 
shells” with having cured him of 
lisping. I wonder if he can lisp- 
lessly say: 

The sixth sheikh’s sixth sheep’s 
sick. 

A young woman writes that her 
dentist fadicr makes patients with 
new plates practise on : 

Amidst the mists and coldest 
frosts. 


With barest wrists and stoutest 
boasts, 

He thrusts his fists *against the 
posts 

And sttll insists he sees the ghosts. 
Here is a difficult old English 
tongue muddler : 

She stood at the door of Burgess’s 
fish-sauce shop welcoming him in. 
Try this delightful dialogue be- 
tween the duchess and the tinker: 
Are you copperbottoming ’em, 
my man? No’m, I’m aluminium- 
ing 'em, mum. 

Here arc some of the older tongue 
twisters. Remember, you have mas- 
tered none until you can repeat it 
three times rapidly and correctly. 
Truly rural. 

Strange strategic statistics. 

Tie twine to three tree twigs. 

Six slim slick ^lender saplings. 
New twisters are constandy ap- 
pearing, either accidentally or by 
deliberate creation. For example : 
Preshrunk shirts. 

Double bubble gum bubbles 
double. 

A bloke’s back brake block broke. 
And now, if your tang is so 
tungled that you cannot stalk trait, 
try three doses of old-fashioned : 
Lemon hniment. 


55 






'I'lir w’lr :>( the Pft'sidefit of 
the Shde.s thiMilrtihl't 

f*ritrai 'he -»>’'/ U^ui 

\ 

!!■'■■. ;-h\ ./.■(■</ /; '■ I)\ '-i.'i;; 

America’s 

New 

Pirst Lady 

By Bi.^Kt CiARK 


r V ER LIEF. JS often hectic, but 
^ never so nightmanshly and 
k ki, unexpectedly so as on ih.’t 
fateful day of last November 22. She 
became First Lady of the United 
States under the most unprcdictabl) 
tragic circumstances. She saw her 
husband take the oath only two 
hc^urs after his predecessor, John 
Kennedy, had l^cn assassinated. 
With her in the forward compart- 
ment of the Presidential plane at 


56 



AMERICANS NEW FIRST LADY 


Dallas’s Love Field, where the 
swearing-in took place, was Jacque- 
line Kennedy who, in the preced- 
ing years, had become her personal 
friend and whom she had so often 
relieved of chores normally the 
portion of the President’s wife. 

During the years of her husband’s 
Vice-Presidency, Lady Bird John- 
son was Washington’s No. i substi- 
tute in an emergency. She came 
capably to the rescue of President 
Kennedy when pressures of state 
kept him from making scholarship 
presentations. Because Mrs. Ken- 
nedy had small children, and strong 
interests in other fields, many jx)li- 
tical activities were handled for her 
by Mrs. Johnson. She also on occa- 
sion received official guests, and 
stood in for her husband and other 
administration members when they 
were unable to keep sfieaking en- 
gagements. She Ctin make an effec- 
tive |)olilical speech, then charm the 
voters individually at a reception. 

On the evening of May 22, u/) 2 , 
for instance, she was IcKjking for- 
ward to an occasion at which she 
had only to be present as her hus- 
band, then Vice-President, received 
the second annual Peace Through 
Health Award. Hut late that after- 
noon came a call from the White 
House. Ml's. Kennedy, for her film 
on the White House, was to be 
given if television award for public 
service, that very evening. But she 
liad a previous commitment. Could 
Mrs. Johnson possibly receive the 
trophy for her? 


Mrs. Johnson could. Changing 
into a dress appropriate for both' 
occasions, she met her husband at 
his award dinner and explained that 
she would have to leave the head 
table briefly. This she did, taking a 
car to a near-by hotel. With only 
five minutes left, she went into a 
phone booth and studied what to 
.say. Then an escort took her to the 
banquet hall, where shfc faced the 
audience and television cameras 
and, on a nationwide broadcast, 
made a gracious acceptance for Mrs. 
Kennedy. Minutes later she re- 
appeared at the first hotel in time 
for the presentation to her husband. 
She had carried it all off so swiftly 
and smoothly that she had hardly 
been missed. 

There was little in Mrs. Johnson's 
early life to foretell her development 
into the kind of versatile person 
who IS confident and at ease in the 
public eye. Ikirn in the town of 
Karnack (population kki) in East 
Texas, she was christened (Claudia 
Alta Taylor. A nursemaid said, 
“She’s as pretty as a-lady bird,*’ and 
thus gave her the name everyone 
calls her today. There arc times 
when she would prefer Claudia 
Alta. 

She was left motherless at five. 
Her father, a big, powerfully-built 
man, ran two country stores and 
cotton gins several miles from 
town ; a sign over one of his places 
announced, “Thomas Jefferson 
Taylor, Dealer in Everything.” 
Lady Bird was a good student — but 

S7 



THE READER^S DIGEST 


March 


so shy that when it looked as if she 
might carry off the school honours 
and have to make a speech, she 
prayed to get smallpox or lower 
marks! She was enormously re- 
lieved when two other girls got 
four-year averages of 95 and 94 
to her 94. 

It was years before she conquered 
the shyness. Marriage helped. 
“Lyndon sSw more in me than I 
saw in myself,” she says, “and he 
expected more than I realized I 
could do.” 

Becoming involved in his career, 
she had to overcome reticence. “It 
you want people to do something, 
like vote,” she observes, “you must 
reach out to them. You believe in 
something deeply and become 
wrapped up in it, and you forget to 
be shy.” 

After getting degrees in liberal 
arts and journalism from the Uni- 
versity of Texas, Lady Bird stayed 
on in Austin. There, one dav in 
1934 in the office of a girl friend, 
she met Lyndon Johnson, at that 
time secretary to Congressman 
Richard Kleberg of Texas. He was 
excessively thin— but a very good- 
looking man, she thought, with lots 
of dark wavy hair. He was also the 
most outspoken, straightforward, 
determined person she’d ever en- 
countered. “I knew I’d met some- 
thing remarkable,” she says, “but I 
didn’t know quite what.” 

He asked her to meet him for 
breakfast next morning. She hesi- 
tated, then agreed. After breakfast, 


they went for a ride. He volun- 
teered all kinds of personal infor- 
mation — ^his salary, how much 
insurance he carried, what each 
member of his famtiv was like — 
then asked her to marry him. She 
refused to say yes or no. But after 
two months of daily phone calls 
from him in Washington, and 
finally a “now or never” ultimatum, 
she accepted his proposal. 

In 1937 the elderly Congressman 
from their district died. Lyndon, 
though generally conceded to have 
little chance, stood for the scat with 
his wife’s support and won it. On 
December 8, 1941, the day after 
Pearl Harbour, he joined the Navy. 
Although Lady Bird had nev'T 
worked in his ('ongressional office, 
she took over the management of it, 
and ran it as Lyndon’s link with the 
people of their district. She .served 
without pay. 

Each day brought an infinite 
variety of problems and demands 
that left her exhausted. But the 
work gave her a particular insight 
into her husband’s job — plus the 
feeling that she could stand on her 
own feet. Without that experience 
of constant problem-solving, she 
might not have had the conidence 
to try her wings as a business- 
woman. But when the opportunity 
came in 1942, shortly after all mem- 
bers of Cxingress were called back 
from the armed services, she did not 
hesitate. 

A small Texas radio station, 
KTBC in Austin, was for sale. 



AMERICANS NEW FIRST LADY 


1964 

Knowing how insecure the tenure 
of elective .office can be, the John- 
sons had often wished for a business 
of their own, something to return to 
after Washington. Not having the 
money for a newspaper, they settled 
on KTBC, and swung the deal for 
21,000 dollars plus the station’s 
debts. 

From a small radio station “in 
debt to everybody in town,” with 
only nine employees and only 250 
watts of power, KTBC has grown 
to over 100 employees, full associa^ 
tion with the national Columbia 
Broadcasting System, a sizeable staff 
of local news gatherers, and a build- 
ing of its own from which a 5,000- 
watt radio and a multiple-panel 
television station do a thriving 
business. 

When the Johnsons acquired it, 
KTBC was losing 2,000 dollars a 
month. Lady Bird went out to see 
why. She stayed on the job day and 
night for five months, until, in 
August 1943, the station showed a 
profit of 18 dollars. Then she re- 
turned to Washington. But she kept 
close watch on the enterprise 
through detailed daily and weekly 
reports. And she handled her invest- 
ment with drive and finesse that 
many another business executive 
might envy. A few days after John- 
son became President of the United 
States, this and other holdings were 
put in trust to guard against any 
possible charge of a conflict between 
private and public interest. 

Two daughters — Lynda, born in 


1944, and Lucy, born in 1947 — 
added to the fullness of a busy life. 
So did political campaigning. Be- 
fore the war. Lady Bird had not 
done any electioneering herself. In 
the 1948 contest for the Senate, 
though flying made her ill, she flew 
all over Texas representing her hus- 
band before small groups of women 
voters. 

Two days before the Election she 
was in a car that turned over twice. 
She got out of the mud, drove on to 
the next town, where she stood in a 
reception line in a dress borrowed 
from her hostess. Then she met 
Lyndon in San Antonio and made 
a s(iccch without telling her hus- 
band about the accident! The next 
day she and Lyndon’s mother and 
three sisters rang up everyone in the 
Austin telephone book, urging 
them to vote for tlieir man. 

When it was all over, in an elec- 
tion where more than a million 
went to the polls, Lyndon won by 
87 votes. Ever since, the once-shy 
Lady Bird has been an active cam- 
paigner, and an invaluable one. 

A reporter once asked Mrs. John- 
son to describe her activities. 

She .said, ‘‘Well, take today for 
example. At nine o’clock I had a 
Spanish lesson, interrupted to make 
an ap[X)intment for Lynda with the 
dentist and for Lucy with a geom- 
etry tutor; II o’clock, I opened the 
National Cathedral Flower Show; 
one o’clock, attended luncheon for 
the Heart Fund drive, with ‘appro- 
priate remarks’ in hand; 2.30 to 5, 

59 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


I answered mail; five o’clock, enter- 
tained 35 students cn route to Chile 
with the Peace Corps; at six, an 
emergency call had me dispatching 
Lyndon’s dinner jacket to the Capi- 
tol; then I dressed and joined him 
at 7.45 at the White House for 
dinner.” 

Said the reporter, ”1 know, Mrs. 
Johnson, but what do you really 
dor 

“Actually,” she said, “that ques- 
tion is one that I suppose every 
woman, and especially every wife 
involved in public duties, asks her- 
self. W'ith all the demands on you, 
you undergo what Anne Lindbergh 
called ‘fragmentation of self.’ You 
just hope that all your efforts add up 
to something worthwhile. Hut the 
day does come when you see results. 
You arc able to speak S[ianish to the 
President of Venezuela. Lucy’s les- 
sons improve. The flower show and 
the Heart Fund make their goals. 
And in the mail comes the letter of 
an elderly pen pal: ‘Heaven bless 
you for your recipe for corn-bread 
dressing!’” 

How ever does she get so much 
done? “I make little lists— and 
scratch ’em off.” The “little list,” 


her planned programme for the day, 
keeps her moving. Even at the 
beauty parlour, for example, she 
will have with her a suitcase-size 
Mexican straw bag containing odd 
jobs. Under the hair drier— “It’s a 
good uninterrupted 40 minutes” — 
she reads letters and rejxirts, signs 
cheques and makes plans for to- 
morrow. 

“Every once in a while I yearn for 
nothing to do,” mused Lady Bird 
ruefully in the days shortly before 
her husband became President. 
“But then of course I realize I’m 
glad I’m busy. As I travel round the 
world with Lyndon I often think of 
that funny old sign on my daddy’s 
store, ‘Thomas Jefferson Taylor, 
Dealer in Everything.’ Now science 
and time and necessity have pro- 
pelled the United Stales to be the 
general store for the world, dealers 
in everything. Most of all, mer- 
chants for a belter way of life, I 
hope. And the world is full of eager 
buyers, thirsty for knowledge and 
hiingrv (or freedom.” 

In that world, America’s new 
First Lady — active, versatile and 
concerned— is an admirable and 
true representative of her country. 


Crying IVolf 

<=tIs aouno Casanova was complaining that he was not as rick as re 
ported. He listed some of his expenses — rent, office space, phones, secre- 
taries. “i^nd,” a fnend reminded him, “don’t forget all that sheep’s 
clothing.” — I^onsrd Lyonn 

60 



One of the most important things an adult 
can do for a child is to leave him alone 


Kids 

Shonl.l Hr B<.!v i! 


. ' " years ago, when my youngest 

^ I H T i ! ! ' ' ' v ^ Yvas four, a philosopher came 

to clean our septic tank. He didn’t 
lock like a philosopher, but I knew he was one as soon 
as we began talking about children. He jerked his head 
in the direction of Bobby, who was lying on his back in 
the grass, staring up at the shifting patterns made by the 
leaves of a black-walnut tree. 

“Hc*s bored,” the man said. “That’s good.” 

“I’hat’s good?'' I asked. 

“('ertainlv. The mistake a lot of people make, they 
keep pushin’ their kids. ‘Don’t just sit there looking 
stupid,’ they tell ’em. ‘(io and do something. Go and 
plav hall, go and annoy the neighbours.’ Not me. I see 

Ctmden\ed fioni l*annt\' \faeaztne 


Koiuki 

Wtus 





LL 


6 / 



THE READER*S DIGEST 


March 


to it my kids have a chance to get 
bored.” 

“Why?” 

“They get bored and pretty soon 
they’re going to start thinking.” 
Bobby had turned over and, chin on 
his hands, was watching an ant 
drag a dead fly through the jungle 
of grass blades. 

“See what I mean?” the septic- 
tank philosopher said. “If you’d 
told him to go and study ants, 
he wouldn’t do it. But he got bored 
lying there. So now he knows some- 
thing about ants.” 

Another observer reached a simi- 
lar conclusion. In The Conquest 
of Happiness, Bertrand Russell 
blamed modern parents for failing 
to realize the advantages to the 
young of “fruitful monotony.” 

“A generation that cannot endure 
boredom will be a generation of 
little men, of men unduly divorced 
from the slow processes of nature, 
of men in whom every vital impulse 
slowly withers, as though they were 
cut flowers in a vase,” he wrote. 

The scptic-tank cleaner and Bert- 
rand Russell were right. Unless we 
are careful, we will rob our chil- 
dren of their birthright — the. 
leisurely, pressure-free hours when 
a child is thrown on his own re- 
sources, forced to become acquaint- 
ed with himself. 

“What shall 1 do?” he asks him- 
self. And if there is ro easy answer 
—no parent-organized games, no 
flick of a radio switch— he may 
progress from this first question to 
62 


others: “Who am I? Why am I 
here? Where am I going? What 
shall I become?” 

When adults, with all goodwill, 
take over the organizing of activi- 
ties, the natural spontaneity of 
childhood is lost. Recendy when I 
was visiting a friend in the suburbs 
his son, who is 11, came home in 
his football togs wearing a dis- 
gusted expression. “The referee 
didn’t show up,” he said, “so we 
didn’t play.” 

Can boys have changed that 
much*^ When I was ii, the thing 
that might have stopped us from 
playing f(K)tball was not the ab- 
sence of an adult but the unexpected 
presence of one. 

When I was a boy no one ex- 
pected very much of me. I had to do 
certain chores, stay out of serious 
trouble and go to school when it 

was in session. But the rest of mv 

* 

time was my own. If I was bored, 
that was my problem. 

I remember once complaining to 
my grandmother that I had nothing 
to do. She took me by the hand and 
led me out on to the big front 
porch, where a succession of fiercely 
preoccupied bumble-bees plunged 
headlong into the blue morning- 
glory blossoms. The sounds and 
smells of summer were in the air. 

“Nothing to do?” she said, an 
impatience in her voice I did not 
understand. “The world is there. 
Go and use it.” 

I have the picture of my grand- 
mother gesturing impatiently and 



KIDS SHOULD BE BORED SOMETIMES 


1964 

presenting me with the earth and 
the skies above it, but then the 
screen of my memory goes blank. 

1 suppose I accepted the gift, grum- 
bling, then went to seek my bored 
contemporaries. 

Perhaps we finished up sitting 
under a tree, talking. After we 
got tired of talking we would 
shoot marbles or play catch or 
sec which one of us could hold 
his breath the longest. We had 
plenty of time for things like that, 
for the days were longer then than 
they arc now. Now they are too 
short, even for children. 

“Karen hasn’t got a free 
moment,” a mother brags at a cock- 
tail party. “After school she has her 
ballet, music, riding lessons. On 
Saturday nights she gocF to the 
school hop. The other nights she 
docs her homework. She never has 
time to be bored.” 

VooT Karen. She is ten, but al- 
ready the adults have her life firmly 
in hand. In a few years she will be 
going out with the boys she has met 
at the school hops. She will be able 
to dance with them and make inteh 
ligcnr conversation about radio 
progiammcs. She will be ready to 
shine — in the competitive world in 
which popularity is measured quan- 
titatively. 

But how much at home will she 
he with herself? 

Boredom can be constructive. I 
can see evidence of it through my 
window. We live on farmland, and 
in the woods near the house arc the 


beginnings of a pond which had its 
birth last week-end. John, who is 
17, and Bobby were tired of playing 
catch. 

Their father, full of strange ideas 
about what’s important, had refused 
to repair the radio. It wasn’t quite 
hot enough to go swimming. 

And so they were sitting in the 
woods, bored to frustration, when 
John said it would be riice if there 
were a pool there under the quak- 
ing aspens, and Bobby said, yes, so 
why don’t we dig one ? Not a swim- 
ming pool, but a place where we 
could plant water lilies and perhaps 
have some goldfish to eat the mos- 
quito larvae. Yes, said John, and 
perhaps we could talk Dad into 
buying a circulating pump, and we 
could have some rocks at one end 
of the pool and a concealed pipe in 
the rocks, with the water trickling 
over them and making a pleasant 
splashing sound. 

And so they got spades. And 
when I came home wc had a hole 
in our woods two feet deep and 14 
feet across at ihe widest sjKit. I was 
handed a hoe and told I could have 
the honour of mixing cement with 
sand and water in the wheelbarrow. 

“That is, if you think having a 
pool is a good idea,” John said. “If 
you don’t, I suppose we can fill up 
the hole.” 

It was a good idea. It would have 
been easier to get the radio 
repaired, and, considering the price 
of cement and of the circulating 
pump, it would have been cheaper; 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


but 1 take a stand with Bertrand 
Russell, who wrote ; 

“The pleasures of childhood 
should in the main be such as the 
child extracts himself from his en- 
vironment by means of some effort 
and inventiveness. We are creatures 
of Earth; our life is part of the life 
of the Earth, and we draw our 
nourishment from it. To the child 
even moreuhan to the man, it is 
necess.iry to preserve some contact 


with the ebb and flow of terrestrial 
life.” 

My own hands blistered, and 
back aching, I suggested to the boys 
that we all slow down and finish 
the pond another day. “This is 
pretty hard work,” I said. 

Bobby corrected me. “It u^uld 
be hard work if we had to do it,” 
he said. “But nobody told us to 
dig this pool. Wc just dreamed it 
up on our own.” 



Out on a Limb 

C)si 1 A MAN would do this to his w'ife, says a woman whose husband 
whispered to her as they arrived at a party, “Your left storking scam is 
crooked.' 

Hastily she made adjustments without being noticed in the crowd. 
Then she whispered to him, “Is the right scam all right?” 

“Yes,” he replied. “It\s seamless.” --M H. 


Line of Least Resistarice 

R\M)0M llousi., book publishers, asked one of its authors to write his 
own promotion copy, with happy results. The author is Norton Justcr, 
whose new book on lower mathematics is called The Dot and the Ltoe 
and whose release runs : “Together again ^ You loved them in Kepler's 
De Mottbus Stellae Martin, You took them into your hearts with Des- 
cartes* Dtstours de la Methode. You thrilled to them in Euclid’s Elements. 
And now once again they arc brought together in the anguished story of 
a straight line who falls desp^'rately in love with a dot. See the wanton 
dot throwing her life away on a disreputable squigglel See the helpless 
line tortured by his own insidious fantasies I See the epic confrontation 
of lovers < See it all in the book that will do for geometry what Jjidy 
Chatterleys Lover has done for gamckceping ! ” - M. D. 



LIFE’S LIKE THAT 



When my husband was transferred to 
a small town we moved into a house 
in a new estate. Since we were 
strangers there, we had some mis- 
givings about the neighbours. After 
stseral hectic days of unpacking and 
getting settled, I was awakened one 
morning by the sound of an electric 
mower. 

I looked out to see our nearest 
neighbour mowing a path through 
the vacant plot which .scparaied their 
house from ours. This simple gesture 
of trust and friendliness from a man 
who had not even met us yet did more 
to make us feel at home than any 
words of welcome. — V M\rtin 

Duamo MAJOR alterations to a build 
ing at Harvard University last year, 
a labourer paused during his demo- 
lition work and turned to me. “I 
hel[)cd to build this place in 1929,*’ he 
said. And then he added with a sense 
(»f wonderment, “They paid me 60 
cents an hour to build it. Now 1 get 
three dollars an hour to tear it down.*' 
— CnARLhS Babcock 

Last winter in Florida, I drove a 
friend to a clinic several days a week 
for a scries of treatments. Each time 
we parked her Rolls-Royce, the coin 
we put in the meter carried us 
through. 

One day the appointment took 


longer, yet when we came out we saw 
the meter was still ticking merrily 
along with plenty of timtf left on it. 

There was a note tucked beneath the 
windscreen wiper. On it was written: 
“I noticed the parking meter was at 
zero. Forgive me, bur have renewed a 
dime’s worth. Wc cannot have the 
police deface a Rolls with a ticket, can 
we^ {signed) An English butler pass- 
ing by.” — Harrs Lyons 

When I began my teaching career this 
year, I made a firm statement of what 
kind of work I expected from my 
pupils. 

I closed my little speech by saying 
It would take far more than a mere 
“apple for the teacher” to receive a 
passing mark. 

Apparently I had made my point. 
On the following morning one of my 
pupils presented me with a melon. 

— Cfccii TiiiDtii 

My husband and I are one of many 
teenage couples. However, wc hardly 
realized how precarious a marriage 
like ours might seem to some people, 
until the (lay my sister-in law intro- 
duced us to an elderly lady. All she 
could manage was, “Oh, goodness, 
how young!” 

Then she made a quick recovery, 
“But won’t it be fun,” she said, 
“growing up together.” — d. h. b. 

65 



THE READER’S DIGEST 


I HAD OFFERED to dfivc my new neigh- 
hour, a widow in her early yo’s, to the 
shops. When I stopped at her house, 
she came out dressed up as though she 
were going to a tea party. 

Surprised that she had gone to such 
trouble just for a grocery-shopping 
trip, I complimented her on her 
-ippcarancc. 

She said, “I’m merely following the 
advice my mother gave me many 
years ago. She loved to ride, and her 
motto was : Always wear your spurs; 
you never know when you may meet 
a horse ! ” — kilfen huntfr 

The voice on the telephone told me I 
must have dialled the wrong number. 

“Are you sure?” I insisted. 

The stranger replied quickly, “Have 
I ever lied to you before?” 

— MKHAFI SlLRN 

Early one Saturday morning my 
father went to a timber-yard and 
ordered panelling for our play-room. 
The supplier asked him, “Do you 
want us to wait until Monday to 
deliver it?” 

“I’d like 11 today if^ you could 
manage it.” 

“Oh, we can* manage it all right,” 
the man answered. “But we always 
ask first. Some men don’t want the 
stuff delivered on Saturday because the 
wife starts nagging them to get the job 
done over the week-end.” 

— Caihfrini: Pobtman 

I HAD HARDLY left thc boat from my 
native Ireland when I met the man 
who was to become my husband. He 
was devoted to his family and to 
his trade, v/hich were closely connect- 
ed; all his relatives worked together 


running a small, long<stablished hotel. 

I was afraid that his mother and 
brothers might resent my intrusion 
into this close-knit arrangement, but 
on our wedding day, as we passed their 
hotel on our way to the church, I saw 
this reassuring sign on the door: 

CLOSED FOR THE DAY DUE TO HAPPINESS 
IN THk FAMILY. -PATRICIA BrlGOER 

In one of the upstairs chambers of a 
stately Normandy chateau, a group of 
tourists was clustered around the guide 
as he made the astonishing statement 
that Louis XIV and Joan of Arc had 
spent the night there. 

As eyebrows rose, he added, “In 
their respective centuries, of course.” 

- G. M(M)ri:< 

As WE live in the country where we 
have to do rough outside chores, I 
frequently wear blue jeans. Perhaps 
too frequently, I decided the other day 
w'hen my husband was watching me 
assemble a cardboard dress form and 
adjust it to my own mcasuremenU. 
Wistfully, he remarked, “It’s going to 
be nice having a woman alxmt the 
house.” —r.()Ris Troup 

In Mexico City’s traffic it’s a case of 
who can outbluff whom, especially in 
trying to cut across thc city’s main 
boulevard, the Pasco dc la Reforma. 
We clung to our scats as our driver 
engineered several hairbrcidth man- 
oeuvres. Then a taxi came blindly 
towards us, heading for thc same lane 
as ourselves. With a great screeching 
of tyres, we beat him to it. 

“That fellow had a lot of nerve!” 
my wife cried. 

“Not enough, senoraj' our driver 
intoned. “Not enough.”— E. F. Mftzgar 



m-: 



Murder, hrture, the 
black-magic rituals of 
voodoo — these are among 
the administrative 
techniques of Francois 
Duralier, the poker-faced 
doctor who runs his 
country like a 
megalomaniac 


By Leland Stowe 


Haiti’s 
Voodoo 
Tyrant ‘ 

A t 7.25 a.m. last April 26, staccato 
I. bursts of submachine-gun fire 
shattered the tropical languor of 
Port-au-Prince, capital of the Re- 
public of Haiti. Four guards who 
had just escorted President Frangois 
Duvaher’s two younger children to 
school were killed. The assault, 
apparently a kidnapping attempt 
and a death warning to the nation’s 
detested dictator, plunged Haiti 
into a bloodbath. 

Within minutes, barricades were 
thrown round the President’s 
palace. Then his private militia 
and his secret-police thug squads, 
known as Tonton Macoute (Creole 
for bogeyman), launched a cam- 
paign of uncurbed slaughter and 
wholesale arrests. In one district 
after another, bursts of gunfire dyed 
the pavements with blood; bullet- 
riddled bodies lay where they fell, 
sometimes untouched for hours. 
That Friday night a doctor counted 
65 corpses in a single hospital. In 
the regime’s notorious jails and 

67 


THE RE,*IDER*S DIGEST 


March 


torture chiimbers, mass executions 
of political prisoners added to the 
ghastly toll. 

Duvalier kept exploiting the “kid- 
napping attempt*' as an excuse to 
liquidate all remnants of opposition. 
By Sunday more than kx) Haitians, 
including many army officers, had 
taken refuge in foreign embassies. 

During their ruthless manhunt, 
Duvalier *St militia invaded and 
searched the Dominican Embassy— 
a flagrant violation of diplomatic 
immunity. The Dominican Repub- 
lic — which shares with Haiti this 
Caribbean island — bristled. It issued 
an ultimatum, mobilized troops 
along Haiti’s border. War seemed 
imminent. Offshore hovered the 
U.S. aircraft carrier Boxer with 
2,000 Marines aboard, alerted for 
trouble. In Port-au-Prince, Duvalier 
held open plane reservations for a 
possible getaway of himself, his 
wife and four children. 

The threat of war was finally 
averted, chiefly through Washing- 
ton’s counsels of restraint in the 
Dominican capital and through mis- 
sions dispatched to the scene by the 
Organization of American States. 
But the price of peace was high— 
the survival of the Western Hemi- 
sphere’s most demonic dictator. The 
horrors of Bloody Friday, coming on 
top of his six-year record of torture 
and assassination, served as grim 
warning. Duvalier’s term of office 
was to expire on May 15, but he 
had previously rigged an extension 
of his presidency and now not a 


hand or voice was raised in protest. 

“Papa Doc"* (as Duvalier likes to 
be called) is a tombstone-faced man 
whose hooded eyes stare through 
horn-rimmed glasses, expressionless 
as a crocodile’s. He tops his invari- 
ably funereal attire with a black 
Homburg and maintains a deep- 
freeze facial control. When extend- 
ing a spongy palm to diplomats, he 
frequently scorns to utter a word. 

'His forbidding inscrutability re- 
minds his people that this is a mas- 
ter to be feared.’A lifelong student of 
voodoo. Dr. Duvalier is an acknow- 
ledged authority on its mumbo- 
jumbo sorceries — and also by some 
reports a practitioner, a great houn- 
gan (priest). Back-country natives, 
convinced he has supernatural p)w- 
ers, call him “Papa Guede,” the 
name of a voodoo divinity evoked 
on the Day of the Dead. This repu- 
tation helps him to keep the acutely 
superstitious Haitians in quaking 
subservience. 

Haiti is a calamitously overpopu- 
lated country. Its people number 
some four million, 95 per cent of 
them of pure African descent; 
their language is Creole, a French 
patois. Ninety per cent arc illiterate 
and ill-fed, subsisting in shocking 
destitution on Latin America’s 
lowest per-capita annual income — 
about Rs. 3(K). 

The ruler of this nightmare world 
was born shanty-poor in Port-au- 
Prince in 1907. He graduated from 
the local School of Medicine in 1934, 
and was recruited into a fight 



HMTn VOODOO TYRANT 

against yaws, the tropical dcin suffered political eclipse. To avoid 

disease. In those years spent among arrest, he went underground for 

the tatterdemalion dispossessed in two years, spending the time with 

the hinterlands of Haiti, Duvalier a schoolteacher friend, Clement 

earned the reputation of a hard- Barbot, plotting the future domina- 

working doctor. He was this, and tion of Haiti, 

more. At night he often slipped When elections were set for 1957, 
away to observe and take part in the voodoo doctor announced his 
weird, blood-letting voodoo cere- candidacy for president. Proclaim- 
monies. He cultivated friendships ing an undiluted “Africanism”— he 

with powerful regional Aoungans. advocated the removal of all mulat- 

For besides a scholarly interest in toes from public office— and backed 

his country’s folklore, “Papa Doc” by vital army support, Duvalier 

had ambitions. “When I become swept triumphantly into office. He 
president,” he told the houngans, promptly named Barbot his No. 2 

“voodooism will have a central man and soon had him recruiting 

place in our country’s heart.” criminal riff-raff into the Tonton 
He was appointed public-health Macoute, 
director in 1946, and later Secretary Upon assuming power, Duvalier 
of Labour. But following the 1950 struck like a blc^-sccnting shark, 
coup which installed Cieneral Paul and launched a long-prepared, re- 
M.igloire as president, Duvalier Icntlcss extermination of opponents 

and critics. Within two 
weeks, more than 100 
[K’oplc were jailed without 
warrants. In his first year, 
the Tonton Macoutc 
murdered dozens. (Barbot 
later said Duvalier ordered 


and student organizations, 
stacked the courts with his 
own judges, ex 
priests and prelates 
would not glorify his 
regime. 

His presidential rivals 
saved their lives only ^by 
fleeing. Unable to find 
former candidate Clement 
69 


pelled 

who 


him “to kill 300 a year.”) 
He suppressed all labour 




THE READER*S DIGEST 


March 


)umclle, Tonton executioners 
tracked down two of his brothers 
and machine-gunned them into 
ribbons as they surrendered, arms 
aloft. 

With the same implacable vindic- 
tiveness the new president attacked 
every independent newspaper. 
Within a year, editors, directors or 
publishers of seven leading publica> 
dons wer« jailed, most of them 
tortured. Mme Yvonne Hakine 
Rimpel, director of the anti-regime 
fortnighdy UEscale, was beaten 
unconscious before her screaming 
children by a dozen armed and 
masked Tontons. Then they trans- 
ported her to an outlying district, 
raped and tortured her, and left her 
dying in pools of blood. Today, the 
few surviving journals print only 
paeans to the president’s “imperish- 
able genius’* and “noble ideas.” 

“I don’t think my police are more 
brutal than any others,” Duvalier 
has said in answer to Western 
journalists’ questions. But witnesses 
testify otherwise. Herbert Morrison, 
formerly Duvalier’s public-relations 
adviser, has described the torture 
chamber in the presidential palace. 
One of the devices is a cofHn-shaped 
“man-squeezer,” the interior thick- 
ly spiked with stiletto blades, 
(^neral Pierre Merceron told of a 
17-ycar-oId youth whom he tried to 
save from this chamber of horrors. 
Arriving too late, Merceron found 
the dying body such a ghastly pulp 
that he vomited. For this display of 
weakness Duvalier called Merceron 


too cowardly for the army and sent 
him to France as ambassador. 

“Duvalier’s entire rule is a re- 
venge against all who were more 
fortunate than he in ability, wealth 
or success,” says one exiled leader. 
The dictator’s actions seem to bear 
this out. Invariably he keeps digni- 
taries waiting. He sacks cabinet 
ministers without notice or explana- 
tion; but not one dares to refuse 
appointment or to resign — those 
who have tried it have disappeared. 
At cabinet meetings, where, he 
places his revolver on the table, the 
“Renovator of the Nation” (as he 
recently had himself proclaimed) 
often scans a newspaper while a 
secretary reads to the members the 
decisions they have “unanimously 
approved.” Then he may wave his 
ministers out without deigning to 
open his mouth. 

A prominent Haitian voices the 
widely-shared opinion: “Duvalier is 
a madman, like Caligula” — a ver- 
dict eventually expiessed by chief 
terrorist Barbot himself. (In Feb- 
ruary i960, Barbot instigated an 
assassination attempt against the 
president and was thrown into jail. 
Released after 18 months, he went 
into hiding. Last July 15, Duvalier’s 
militia shot him down with his 
brother a few miles north of the 
capital.) 

If “Papa Doc” has delusions of 
grandeur, he knows how to turn 
them into real cash. Soon after tak- 
ing oitice he paid visits to several 
Port-au-Pfince banks, where his 


70 



HAITVS VOODOO TYRANT 


1^4 

armed escorts scooped most of the 
contents out of the vaults. About 
Rs. I '5 crorcs in taxes from tobacco, 
matches and other government 
monopolies are diverted annually 
into non-budgeted “presidential 
funds.” Armed bogeymen collect 
up to Rs. 1,500 monthly from busi- 
ness enterprises as “voluntary con- 
tributions” to his Committee for 
National Economic Liberation. 
Taxes are punitive: even market 
women and street venders are ob- 
liged to hand over a quarter of 
daily earnings averaging a mere 
Rs. 3. 

Duvalier seems to take particular 
satisfaction in using U.S. dollars for 
his own nefarious purposes. The 
United States has bestowed more 
than 42*5 million dollars m aid on 
his regime, and some of this has 
gone to build up the dictator’s ter- 
rorists. 

In 1960, after a Duvalier-publi- 
cizcd “Cuban invasion attempt,” 
Washington dispatched military 
aid to help strengthen the Haitian 
army. Duvalier turned this to his 
own use. Early in 1962, Americans 
di<.‘ overed that the bulk of their 
nearly two million dollars in mili- 
tary aid had ended up in the hands 


of Duvalier’s private uniformed 
militia. (This force now numbers 

10.000, the Tonton Gestapo another 

5.000, the Haitian Army only 

5.000, ) 

Prominent Haitians hold mis- 
guided U.S. policies chiefly respon- 
sible for Duvalier’s consolidation of 
power. Joint protests by the leaders 
of several Latin-American countries 
are credited with bringing about a 
U.S. policy reversal in 1962. Du- 
valier is now clearly regarded by 
Washington as a sinister influence. 

Despite almost unanimous inter- 
national disapproval, the wily dicta- 
tor is determined to hold power. 
Last August a small force of exiles 
under General Leon Cantave landed 
in Haiti and entrenched themselves 
in the mountainous region to wage 
guerrilla v/ar against the govern- 
ment. Routed by superior force, 
they fled across the Dominican 
border in late September. 

“Whoever overthrows Duvalier 
will need much power — and need to 
know how to use it,” remarks a 
long-time foreign, resident. An 
exile leader adds: “Duvalier will 
leave a powder magazine with fuses 
lighted at both ends — with the real 
danger of Communism in Haiti.” 


yyvvyvvvvvv 

W'orking to Rule 

* 7 f^HiLE my mother believes in the Golden Rule, she also advocates a 
second maxim, which she terms her Iron Rule: “Don’t do for others 
what they wouldn't take the trouble to do for themselves.” 

— Contributed by Mrs. D. Fulton 


71 



Do we expect too much of 
these mechafiical geniuses^ 
After all, they re only human 

Computers Confounded! 



By S. David Puksglove 
AND John Ennis 

I F YOU envisage a world regulated 
by the cdm clicking of an 
infallible computer and there- 
fore free from error, you are in for 
a disappointment. The electronic 
brains — ^there is one at Newcasde- 
upon-Tyne owned by Britain’s Min- 
istry of Pensions which already has 
26 million Britons reduced to mag' 
netic tape— are showing sigos of 
nervousness, intoxication and in- 
decision. Many are running amok. 


There have been mentally un 
balanced robots at the Burden 
Neurological Institute in Bristol, 
England, and at the Massachusetts 
Institute of Technology in the 
United States. From time to time 
these thinking machines go com- 
pletely crazy. The robots were de- 
signed to hunger for heat or light 
to satisfy thermocouples or photo- 
cells. 

They become intoxicated from 


AdapUd from «n artirU in Popmlgr Mochames 
Cmtoon reproduetd by pormutmn of Punch 


7^ 



COMPUTERS CONFOUNDED! 


too much heat or light, become des- 
perate when tho'c is too little. They 
exhibit realistic frustration when 
routes to goal accomplidunent are 
blocked. These machines can make 
a free choice between two equally 
fcasiUe routes; but, when they are 
designed to be able to learn from 
experience, they break down in 
throes of agonizing indecision when 
given ambiguous instructions. 

Several computers have had 
genuine nervous breakdowns. The 
classic story is about the machine 
who worked too hard at an impos- 
sible job. All night long she clicked 
and clacked wildly, and as dawn 
approached she was whirring 
angrily and gnashing her gear teeth 
in frustration. Finally she blew her 
tubes and fuses and collapsed. She 
had been trying to divide by zero. 

Machines even succumb to 
romance. William Dersch, of Inter- 
national Business Machines, de- 
signed a computer with ears. She 
responds to carefully spoken num- 
bers with a regulated “clack-click.” 
But one day she became enamoured 
of a movie-camera spring that was 
being wound within her hearing 
and went into a rhapsodic hysteria 
of clickety-clacks. 

Another sensitive machine is 
ERNIE— the British G.P.O.’s Elec- 
tronic Random Number Indicating 
Equipment at Lytham St. Annes, 
Lancashire — which picks the win- 
ners of the monthly Premium Bond 
lottery. One day, as a celebrity was 
about to perform ERNIE’s monthly 


switching-on ceremony, bagpipes 
began playing in the street outside. 
£RNl£ showed every sign of 
switching himself on, and engineers 
leaped forward in alarm. Apparent- 
ly the music of the pipes struck 
some chord in the valve where 
ERNIE’s heart should be. Unkind 
Sassenachs have other explanations. 

The most advanced computers 
still place pathetic reliance on flesh 
and blood people. Scientists using a 
computer at Birkbeck College, Lon- 
don, to translate between German 
and English, have to make special 
checks whenever it handles a word 
which might be part of an idiomatic 
phrase. “Otherwise,” one scientist 
explained, “the English phrase ‘out 
of sight, out of mind’ could easily 
become the German for ‘blind 
lunatic.’ ” 

An electronic machine that smod 
guard in an unattended North Lon- 
don electricity sub-station did not 
know that dialling O will no longer 
raise the telephone operator. One 
Saturday the machine took auto- 
matic notice of a fault and sent out 
ten running pulses, which is the 
equivalent of dialling O. When an 
electronic response confirmed that 
its call had been answered at the 
telephone exchange, it started up a 
loop tape which repeated, “A fault 
has developed. Please dial the duty 

engineer at .” No human heard 

the cry for help. Instead, a similar 
loop tape in the exchange replied, 
“Dialling O has been discontinued 
To reach the operator you must 

73 



THE READER*S DIGEST 


now dial loo.” The two machines 
kept up this conversation until an 
engineer came to their rescue some 
hours later. 

It is true that humans often feed 
the machines the wrong informa- 
tion or ask them to do the wrong 
things, but the machines themselves 
arc not infallible. A big computer 
can be expected to make a mistake 
at least onc^ a week. Mistakes stem 
from such things as failed tran- 
sistors, loose connexions, foreign 
matter in the machine or overheat- 
ing. There was near chaos at Rosyth 
dockyard, Scodand, a few years ago 
when computers employed in pre- 
paring wages for 5,400 workers 
broke down. Penniless workers had 
to be given railway travel vouchers 
to get home. 

In theory, robot mistakes can be 
prevented by using two robots, one 
to check on the other and eliminate 
errors. This doesn’t always work. 

A robot and robot-checker were 
assigned to keep U.S. Army sup- 
plies flowing. A supply officer 
approached the ‘robot one day and 
suggested that 300 foodockers be 
ordered for a unit in Europe. The 
machine's operator — admittedly a 
human — mistakenly punched a 
card for 30,000 and fed it to the 
machine. The robot shrugged its 
tape reels and ordered 30,000 foot- 
lockers without question. The order 
went to the robot checker, and the 
warning signal went up. The ma- 
chine knew the order would deplete 
the home supply of foodockers. So 

74 


it clacked out an order to army 
supply officers to purchase 30,000 
foodockers to replenish the stocks. 

The army has its automated prob- 
lems, but it is the civilian popula- 
tion that is fighting back. An almost 
fully mechanized post office in 
America has become the butt of 
jokes because it cannot tell the 
difference between a postage stamp 
and a “Merry Christmas” seal. 

In Britain in 1962, Norfolk 
County Councillors were told by the 
Ministry of Housing and Local 
(lovernmcnt not to count on receiv- 
ing the million which was 
listed as the amount due as the 
county’s general grant from the 
Government. The true figure was 
about million, but the Ministry’s 
new computer was having teething 
troubles. The Housing Minister, Sir 
Keith Joseph, later told Parliament, 
“I gather that during one of the 
trial runs the Scilly Isles were dis- 
covered to be within the London 
Metropolitan Police District.” 

There is, in fact, still hope for us 
obsolescent mortals. Six years ago a 
marine-engine manufacturer de- 
cided Lo switch to a fully automated 
assembly line. But no matter how 
the robots were arranged, one job 
was not being done. The scrap 
metal from a die-casting machine 
was not being removed. After weeks 
of checking all kinds of robots and 
talking to people who had run into 
the same problem, the company’s 
chief engineer recommended : 
“Hire a man with a wheelbarrow.” 



Personal 

Glimpses 



David Low, the world- 
famous British political 
cartoonist who died 
last year, once told an 
interviewer: “If you arc ever asked to 
write my epitaph, you can say, ‘Here 
Lies a Nuisance Who Was Dedicated 
to Sanity.’ *’ -NiT 


Georges Braque once said, “When 
I begin a painting, it seems to me 
that evcrytWg is on the other side, 
simply covered with this white dust, 
the canvas. All I have to do is dust. 
I have one little brush to bring out 
the blue, another for the green or the 
yellow — my paint brushes. When 
everything is clean, the painting is 
finished.** — ^Michael Gall 


Film director Cecil B. DeMille once 
commented that he was not a univer- 
sity graduate. “I’ve been accused of 
not Ming able to read, but no one has 
ever said that I can’t add.*’ 

To prove his point he described 
how in the old days they poured 
chemicals from the film-developing 
room down a gutter that ran to a 
near-by sewer. “The city told us to 
dispose of the solutions in some other 
way. A kindly old soul came along 
and offered to haul away the hypo for 


25 cents a tank. I did a little figuring 
and fi>und he couldn’t make expenses 
that way. I’m a great believer in 
human kindness, but I never heard of 
anyone doing anything for nothing; 
so I refused his offer and waited to sec 
what would happen. A few days later 
he came back and offered to do it for 
nothing. Then he said he would pay 
me 25 cents a tank. 1 eventually told 
him I would not sell the stuff at all 
but would go 50-50 with^him if he let 
me in on his secret.** 

DeMille paused, opened a desk 
drawer and withdrew a glittering little 
ingot. “I’ve kept it all these years as a 
reminder to be careful when someone 
wants to buy something from me. It’s 
solid silver. This man had discovered 
that the silver in the hypo could be 
reclaimed. I learned his secret, and it 
paid most of our chemical bills for 
quite a while.’’ 

—Phil Kour>, Yes. Mr, DeMille 


Pianist Artur Rubinstein once said, 
“I always recommend that all musi- 
cians have daughters. Sons are inclined 
to smile tolerantly and say, ‘Papa is a 
fine fellow but a little mad, of course.’ 
But daughters understand and adore I 
They know instinctively that an artist 
remains something of a child to the 
end of his days.’’ —Wisdom 

When the Archbishop of Canterbury 
was in New York, a photographer, 
trying to get his attention for a 

E icture,*couldn’t think how to address 
im. In desperation he called, 
“Archie, would you turn your head 
this way, please?’’ 

His Grace turned his head and, 
affable as ever, said, “My name, sir, 
is not Archie. It’s Mike.’’ —The Witness 

75 



. mr 

France Comes 
jtijj of Nuclear Age 

An explanation of 
whxit lies behind de Gaulle's 
bid for poiver 


By Robert Kleiman 


WSls'ir. 


^ 


P RESIDENT DF 

Gaulle’s small 
nuclear strike 
force — long de- 
bated, disputed and 
even ridiculed by 
the world — ^is now 
becoming a reality. 

Its delivery vehicle, 
the Mach'2-2 Mir- 
age IV bomber, is 

coming off a Bor- ^^ 3 ^; 
deatix assembly line 
at the rate of one 

month; output y^ 

reaches two a month this year, compared to the current thermo 
Production of atomic bombs, after nuclear monsters. 



+T 'fcOf M ■' ^ r- P, 






The Mirage IV jet bomber 






numerous Sahara tests, is more The first six- or eight-plane units 
than keepng pace. .The bombs are will soon be fully operational, 
of 6 o kilotons, larger than the Crews, two per plane, are training 
Hiroshima bomb, though small for what will be a 30'bomber 
76 



FRANCE COMES OF NUCLEAR AGE 


force by the end of next year. 

A Commandement Adrien Strati- 
giqua (Strategic Air Command) has 
been set up in Versailles under 
Major-General Bernard Marie. An 
underground command centre is 
being built at Taverny, in the north- 
west outskirts of Paris, with crisis 
quarters for de Gaulle himself. 

Tactics are ready, worked out 
on three Mirage IV pre-production 
planes. 

Inertial navigation, bombing 
techniques and methods of mini- 
mizing ground vulnerability have 
been tested. The light, twin-jet 
Mirage IV can take off from 2,000- 
yard fields, hardened by a new 
chemical spray. The Mirage IV’s 
will be dispersed to secret strips all 
over France. 

Their main bases and supplies 
will be scattered on dozens of 
military airfields, where the planes 
will be housed in individual 
air<onditioned concrete hangar- 
homb-shelters at the end of their 
runways, safe from anything but a 
direct nuclear hit. 

On four-minute alert, the stand- 
by Mirage IV’s will be airborne 60 
seconds after racing out of their 
hangar doors. French airmen are 
convinced that a substantial percent- 
age would be able to get through 
Soviet defences at high altitudes in 
the 1964-66 period. It is hoped that, 
at a later stage, an air-to-ground 
missile that can be fired at a con- 
siderable distance from the target 
would permit low-level “stand-off” 


attacks, far more difficult to inter- 
cept. 

Meanwhile, research and develop- 
ment are under way for an invulner- 
able “second-generation” nuclear 
force for the 1970’s. It is to consist 
of three to five nuclear submarines, 
each carrying 16 medium-range 
missiles tipped with hydrogen war- 
heads. A 5,000 million N.F. (Rs. 
500 crores) gaseous-diffusion plant, 
•to produce enriched uranium for 
the H-bomb, is under construction 
at Pierrelatte in southern France. 
French islands in the South Pacific 
arc being made ready for con.stnjc- 
tion of an H-bomb test site. A 
prototy|ie of a nuclear submarine 
engine is being built. Advanced 
solid-fuel rockets are being tested. 

De Gaulle’s nuclear effort is cost- 
ing France thousands of millions, 
and already straining the nation’s 
resources. But there is no longer any 
doubt that France can build a small 
independent deterrent. President 
Kennedy admitted as much last 
August when he recognized France 
as a nuclear power,.quaIified, under 
certain conditions, to receive the 
kind of aid Britain had long ob- 
tained under the Atomic Energy 
Act. 

Yet, only a year before, U.S. De- 
fence Secretary Robert McNamara 
denounced small independent nu- 
clear forces as useless and dan- 
gerous. And the whole enterprise 
remains as controversial as ever. 

The French nuclear force is 
usually considered to be de Gaulle’s 

77 



THE READER’S DIGEST 


March 


creation. The Frendi President has 
certainly pushed it; without his 
determination, it might not exist 
today. But most of the basic deci- 
sions were actually made before de 
Gaulle returned to power in June 
1958. 

The real father of the force de 
frappe is General Pierre Gallois, a 
52-year-old Air Force general, little- 
known outffde France, who helped 
to think up the original idea, then, 
almost singlehandedly, over wide- 
spread military and civilian opposi- 
tion, persuaded the French Govern- 
ment to undertake it. 

General Gallois flew on 30 night 
raids over Germany with RAF 
Bomber Command in the war, and 
spent his days writing articles on 
military strategy for a Free French 
magazine in I^ndon. A brilliant 
military intellectual, Gallois later 
benefited from a key post in the 
North Atlantic Treaty Organiza- 
tion command by educating himself 
in nuclear weaponry. Now retired, 
Gallois was selected in 1953 by 
General Nors^pd, then deputy 
supreme NATO commander for 
air, to join in an allied study of how 
nuclear weapons could be used to 
defend Europe. With four other 
British, American and French offi- 
cers, Gallois spent a year drafting 
a 1,000-page document which pro- 
foundly influenced all NATO’s sub- 
sequent war plans. 

In July 1954, ^^llois was sum- 
moned to a conference with the 
French Secretary of State for Air, 

7 » 


Diom^e Catroux, to discuss the 
modernization of the French armed 
forces. Gallois’ view was that the 
atom bomb would serve as the 
“equalizer” between the big knd 
the small. He argued that France 
should build its own nuclear force 
and that the capability of destroying 
even 20 Soviet cities would deter 
Soviet aggression. 

During the next three years, 
Gallois briefed cabinet ministers, 
deputies, senators, businessmen, 
editors and military men. He en- 
countered so much scepticism that 
he began to illustrate his theses on 
huge cardboard charts which, as a 
skilled artist (his handsome Pans 
apartment is covered with his own 
murals), he himself prepared. In 
March 1956, Gallois was instru- 
mental in convincing Socialist 
Premier Guy Mollct that, without 
nuclear weapons, national defence 
was inconceivable. As a resuh, 
Mollet ordered the development of 
a French atom bomb and launched 
the construction of the Mirage IV 
prototypes. 

Thus, by the beginning of 1957, 
research was well along on the 
plutonium bomb and initial funds 
were budgeted for the Pierrelatte 
gaseous-diflusion plant, which 
would make possible the develop- 
ment of a hydrogen bomb. After de 
Gaulle took office in June 1958, 
vastly larger sums were budgeted, 
and the whole programme was 
accelerated. 

When it is completed, France 



FRANCE COMES OF NUCLEAR AGE 


will have a nuclear force of limited 
military value— less than one per 
cent of the striking power of the 
U.S. nuclear establishment. But the 
real issue does not lie in military 
effectiveness. The real issue is 
political. 

What de Gaulle primarily expects 
to get for the millions he is spending 
is a status symbol. For him, as for 
Britain, an independent deterrent 
has become the necessary attribute 
of a major power in a world domi- 
nated by two colossi. This, from the 
beginning, has been the central issue 
in the six-year nuclear dispute that 
has troubled French relations with 
the United States and NATO. 

Long before he exploded his first 
atomic device, de (Jaullc pressed 
Eisenhower to recognize France as 
a world power. He refused to per- 
mit U.S. intermediate-range mis- 
siles or atomic stockpiles on French 
soil, forcing the withdrawal of U.S. 
fighter-bombers from France. He 
pulled his Mediterranean fleet out 
of NATO and has now announced 
that he will do the same with his 
Atlantic fleet. 

Tiis price for co-operation, he told 
Eisenhower four years ago, was a 
veto over America’s use of modern 
weapons anywhere in the world. 

‘‘Do you mean," Eisenhower 
asked unbelievingly, “that if I want 
to use rocket missiles over Formosa 
Strait, I have to ask your agree- 
ment.?” 

The unabashed answer was 
"Out," and Eisenhower concluded 


it was impossible to come to terms 
with de Gaulle. 

But de Gaulle’s campaign was 
catching. Germany, followed by 
other NATO countries, sought a 
greater voice in NATO’s U.S.- 
controlled nuclear strategy. Britain, 
starting to withdraw from the 
nuclear race, decided instead to hold 
on to her own deterrent. The 
United States was forzed to offer 
Europeans a nuclear role in a multi- 
lateral force of 25 Polaris-equipped 
ships. 

French and British officials have 
recently argued the case for an 
Anglo-French deterrent. Continen- 
tal countries have begun to call 
for a European deterrentwithout an 
American veto. In a word, the genie 
is out of the bottle, and the Moscow 
test-ban agreement cannot put it 
back. 

Kennedy recognized this. He 
tried to satisfy the non-nuclear 
powers with his multilateral force. 
He extended the life of Britain’s 
deterrent far into the 1970’swith the 
Polaris deal. And be offered to talk 
with France about nuclear aid in 
return for fuller co-operation in 
joint defence of the West. But de 
Gaulle showed litde interest. He 
wanted to avoid a meeting until his 
first Mirage IV squadron was fully 
operational. He wants the United 
States to treat him as an equal in 
shaping the West’s nuclear strategy 
and in negotiating with Russia 
over European issues. Nuclear 
assistance, for which he personally 

79 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


has never asked directly (although 
his ministers and generals have), is 
secondary to his overriding objec- 
tive : great-power status for France. 

Will de Gaulle be more amenable * 
once his force de frappe is flying? 
There is a theory that de Gaulle is 
most intransigent when he is weak. 
During the war, Churchill once 
urged the French leader to yield to 
Roosevelt as he, Churchill, had 
done many times. 

De Gaulle replied, “You* are 
seated on a solid state, an assembled 
nation, a united Empire, large 
armies. But I ! Where are my re- 
sources? I am too poor to be able 
to bow.” 

A few Mirage IV bombers 
equipped with 6o-kiloton atomic 
bombs will not make de Gaulle 
rich in nuclear power. But there arc 
some who feel it will represent for 
him a symbol of nationhood, of big- 
powerdom. In this sense, France 
is about to come of age in the 
nuclear era. But it is by no mcan^ 
clear whether this will make 
de Gaulle a moqe co-operative ally. 

The French President wants to 
speak for Europe. But his efforts to 
unite the Continent, so far, have 
been hampered by his determina- 
tion to dominate in its leadership. 
De Gaulle has sought, first of all, to 
shape Europe into a loose, nine- 
teenth-century coalition of states, 
led by France. B) building a 

Antarctic research team at 

as “Memory Aids.” 

8 o 


national instead of a European 
nuclear force, by opposixik fe«ral 
union on the Continent, of with- 
drawing co-operation from NATO, 
by excluding Britain from the Com- 
mon* Market and bv abstaining from* 
U.S.'British negotiations with Rus- 
sia, de Gaulle has achieved the pro- 
gressive isolation of France instead 
of advancing the burgeoning union 
of Europe. 

"Whatever the virtues of tki 
French President, and they arc 
many, America is unlikely to accord 
an equal voice to a«nation of 4^ 
million with an economy one-ninth 
that of the United States and a 
nuclear force that, at its maxjmum, 
will amount to less than on^ per 
cent of SAC. 

The United States, on the other 
hand, has offered “equal partner- 
ship” to a united Europe. A federal 
union, based on the existing Com- 
mon Market, would make Europe 
into the world’s Third Giant. That 
Europe, even without Britain, 
would have a population of 170 mil 
lion, an’ economy as strong as Rus- 
sia’s and the capability of becoming 
a major nuclear power. With 
Britain, it would be far stronger. 

Such a union could not be 
s^ieved overnight. But if de Gaulle 
were to move effectively to unite 
the Continent, he would need no 
other status symbol to strengthen 
his political voice. 

McMurdo Sound refers to pinups 

— A. 1 



SPKCI4I. KhOI KST FK\T( «K 

The Right Hon. Kenneth 
Younger, Chairman of the 
Howard League for Penal 
Reform, has asked that this article 
be reprinted. It first appeared 
in The Reader’s Digest for 
Noiiember 1948 


Elizabeth Fry Goes 

By Janet Whitney 




ne man or woman raises a 
banner and thousands follow; 
little movements, started locally, 
become worldwide,*' This was 
never more true than of the move- 
ment on behalf of women prisoners 
initiated in the early nineteenth 
century by Elizabeth Fry, the 
Quaf^er w'fe of a prosperous Lon- 
don merchant, whose success at 
Newgate Prison is described in this 
article, Latet' she iHsited prisons 
throughout the British Isles, France, 
Germany, Belgium, Holland and 


Switzerland, devoting a quarter of 
a century to the wor\, effecting 
many improvements, and becoming 
the chief exponent of prison reform 
in all Europe, 

On a cold January day in 1817, in 
the gloomy vestibule outside the 
women’s yard at Newgate Prison, 
two turnkeys were arguing with a 
lady. The row jnsidc the yard was 
as great as usual. Even while they 
talked, a woman rushed wildly out 
of a doorway and, with shrieks of 


Condnud from The Allantie Monthly 



81 



THE HEADERS DIGEST 


furious laughter, snatched off the 
head'gear of every woman that she 
could reach, 

“And she wouldn’t stop at doing 
that to you, ma’am. Tear off your 
things — scratch and claw you — 
that’s what they’d do, ma’am.’’ The 
turnkeys themselves knew better 
than to go in alone. But the lady 
was obstinate. She smiled and said, 
“Thank y^u, but I am going in — 
and alone.’’ At least, then, she must 
leave her watch behind. They could 
sec the glittering chain on the quiet 
richness of her Quaker dress. But 
the unreasonable lady would not 
even do that. 

Reluctantly the turnkeys pressed 
open the gate against the begging, 
scuffling crowd, and Elizabcdi Fry 
went in. The gate clanged and 
locked behind her. There was an 
instantaneous silence of complete 
astonishment. Then every woman 
in the yard surged forv\[ard. The 
lady was surrounded; the turnkeys 
could sec only the tip of her white 
cap. But no one was snatching. The 
Quaker dress was not provocative. 
Yet Elizabeth was in great danger. 
If she should now show fear, or say 
or do the wrong thing . . . but she 
had never been less afraid in her 
life. She picked up a filthy little 
child and it could be seen fingering 
her bright chain. Then she lifted 
her hand for attention. 

“Friends, many of you are 
mothers. I too am a mother. I am 
distressed for your children. Is there 
not something we can do for these 
82 


innocent little ones? Do you want 
them to grow up to become real 
prisoners themselves? Arc they to 
learn to be thieves and worse?” 

Thus she pierced their armour. 
They gave her a chair and brought 
their children to her. What tales she 
heard of wickedness, remorse, in- 
justice, and despair! She remained 
with them for hours, and made 
plans with them. And when at last 
she bade them farewell, she left be- 
hind her an inhabitant very strange 
at Newgate — ^revivifying Hope. 

What, then, was Elizabeth Fry’s 
remarkable project? It was nothing 
more nor less than to start a school, 
in Newgate, for the children of 
prisoners and for juvenile criminals. 
By invoking the aid of the women 
themselves, she put herself more 
than a hundred years ahead of the 
most advanced thinkers of her time. 

On her next visit Mrs. Fry was 
welcomed as an already familiar 
friend. Remnants of lost manners 
returned to the women in response 
to her serene courtesy. They proudly 
presented to her the schoolmistress 
they had chosen from among them- 
selves, a young woman named 
Mary Connor, recently committed 
for stealing a watch, but in other 
respects well qualified U: instruct 
the young. 

Mrs. Fry praised their progress, 
and talked over with them in detail 
rules for the school. Assured of their 
complete co-operation, she then 
approached the authoritics-^the two 
Sheriffs of London, the Governor 




of Newgate himself. Only a lady of solve it. One small room was found 
wealth and standing could have to be, by common consent, un- 
commanded the car of these im- needed for any other purpose. Then 
[lortant men. As it was, they gave the Sheriffs gave their permission: 
her every attention, but displayed she might try her “benevolent, but 
the usual official attitude. Her plan almost hopeless, experiment.” 
was a very nice plan and it did her The very next day, Mrs. Fry, as 
heart and mind credit, but, alas! impatient to begin as the prisoners 
Mrs. Fry did not know Newgate as themselves, brought old school- 
the\ did. These women were in- books, installed Mary (Connor as 
corrigible, irretrievable. Besides— teacher, and formally opened the 
this was at the second interview— school. Thirty pupils, mostly chil- 
there was not a single room that dren of seven and under, were en- 
could be spared. rolled; the “narrowness of the 

Astutely Mrs. Fry committed room” would hold no more. But 
them to the statement that the the door was besieged with girls in 
absence of a room was now their their teens and women in their 
only objection. She then went to her twenties and older, imploring, with 
allies, the women prisoners. To tears, to be taught, 
state her problem to them was to Elizabeth promised she would try 

S3 


THE READER'S DIGEST 


March 


to do something for them, if they 
would be patient. Daily she passed 
through the appalling life of the 
yard. She saw and heard and was 
aware of all kinds of filth, drunken- 
ness and degradation. She knew 
that men prisoners were let into the 
women’s quarters at night. She 
knew of abuses “too bad to tell,” 
so that she never dared take any 
“young pe/son” into the place. Yet 
she neither despised nor despaired. 
She perceived that the enforced idle- 
ness, the dreadful ennui of prison, 
was itself a direct incentive to 
vicious behaviour. 

The more intelligent prisoners 
had told her the very first day that 
they wanted to be taught to read 
and sew. A third of the 70 women 
at Newgate were unable to read at 
all; another third could read “only 
a little.” 

As for sewing, it would en- 
able the women to make clothes 
for themselves and their children. 
And after that, what^ Elizabeth 
concluded that they should sew 
things to sell. But to whom? And 
where was the money for materials 
to come from ? 

She consulted others interested in 
prison reform. All threw cold water 
on her ideas. The materials given 
out to prisoners would be stolen. 
The women would soon tire of it. 
Most of them were the very scum of 
the city, prostitutes and thieves 
from their youth up, and any desire 
for betternnent or novelty would be 
temporary. She would only waste 

^4 


her time and money, and get her 
feelings hurt, besides. 

None the less she persevered. She 
got together ten of her friends, all 
but one Quakers like herself, and 
they formed the Ladies’ Newgate 
Committee. They bound themselves 
to take turns in going daily to New- 
gate to instruct the women, to pro- 
vide funds for materials, to arrange 
for the sale of the work, and to pay 
the salary of a matron to be on the 
spot day and night. 

At this point, Elizabeth Fry’s hus- 
band came to her rescue. He knew 
that beneath the stately air of the 
handsome matron of 37, there beat 
a heart still subject to girlish 
tremors, and that she dreaded mak- 
ing another appeal to the Cjovcrnor 
and the Sheriffs. So he invited them 
to meet his wife in the wealthy 
atmosphere of his own home and 
under the dignity of his protection. 
They came, they argued, they dis- 
couraged — and they consented. 
They had, in fact, handicapped 
themselves by the admission of the 
school for the children. That indeed 
had been the thin end of the wedge 
which, driven now farther in, was 
to split the rotten timbers of prison 
administration clean asunder. 

The Governor had the prison 
laundry cleaned, whitewashed, and 
fitted up as a workroom. There 
Elizabeth started what she still 
called a “School.” Monitors from 
among the prisoners themselves 
were placed over every 12 women, 
but not a monitor was appointed, or 



EUZABETH PRY GOES TO NEWGATE 


1964 

a rule made, without unanimous 
consent. Later Elizabeth Fry insti- 
tuted a system of rewards for good 
behaviour, but never any punish- 
ments, other than the losing of the 
rewards. 

Within a month of the start of the 
experiment, the Lord Mayor of 
London, the Sheriffs, and st'vcral of 
the Aldermen came down to New- 
gate. “Many of those,” says one 
commentator, “knew Newgate, had 
visited it a few months before. They 
now saw what, without exaggera- 
tion, may be called a transforma- 
tion. They saw no more an assem- 
blage of abandoned and shameless 
creatures, half naked and half 


drunk. This ‘hell on earth’ ex- 
hibited the appearance of an in- 
dustrious manufactory or a well- 
regulated family. The magistrates 
immediately adopted, the whole 
plan as a part of the system at New- 
gate, undertook part of the expense 
of the matron.” 

Thus began a work that within a 
year was to grow to % dimension 
which would carry Elizabeth Fry’s 
name all over the country, within 
three years was to place her in corre- 
spondence, as prison adviser, with 
most of the crowned heads of 
Europe, and which since her death 
has given her a niche among the 
great women of history. 



Parental Strategy 

Ar 18 Mary began to stay out at parties later than her parents thought 
advisable. They would sit up until she came in, and when they remon- 
strated over the lateness of the hour, she complained that they treated her 
like a baby. • 

Her parents hit upon a solution. They all agreed beforehand on the 
homecoming hour, usually a compromise between Mary's ideas and theirs, 
and set an alarm clock for that time. It was up to Mary to be home in time 
to “unset” the alarm. Her parents could retire when they felt like it, and 
did not need to worry about her unless the bell woke them. 

— The Parents' Magazine 


Ssh! 

We were watching the i8th-hole finish of a golf tournament on tele- 
vision. Arnold Palmer was about to take his stance, and the commentator’s 
voice became hushed as he described the dramatic situation. I asked my 
friend, an avid golfer, to turn up the volume. “I can’t,” she whispered, 
“not while he’s putting.” — l. k. h. 



A Reader’s Digest Person” Award 



THE DAY THE COWS 
DIDN’T COME 


HOME 

How do you turn discord 
into harmony? It takes 
a keen ear, a delicate touch — 
and a heart as understanding 
as Mr. Dunnegan’s 


F or a short while the Dunne- 
gans were our closest neigh- 
bours, They moved on to the 
old Barton (arm, which was thin- 
soiled, rock-ribbed and slant-sided, 
so no one was surprised when they 
stayed only a single season. But they 
were long-remembered, especially 
Mr. Dunnegan. Years later, when 
his name was brought up, a certain 
look, almost of bafflement, would 
come into people's eyes. Someone 
would say, “You know, that cowbell 
man who . . The sentence was 
seldom finished, because nobody 
could think of words to express 


By Jean Bell Mosley 
86 



THE DAY THE COWS DIDJi’T COME HOME 


exactly what it was the cowbell man 
had done. 

Mr. Dunnegan was a tall, spare 
rnan, with a sun-browned face 
wrinkled in pleasing patterns as if 
he’d laughed a lot. His hair was 
white and bushy and sometimes, in 
the right light, the circular fringe of 
it that stuck out from beneath his 
ancient straw hat appeared to be a 
sort of feathery halo. He walked a 
litde bent forward as if eager to 
meet life on its own terms and do 
what he could with it. If a problem 
was discussed in his presence his 
inevitable query was a soft, “Is any- 
thing being done about itP” as if he 
needed to know before proceeding 
with ideas of his own. 

Things weren’t going well in our 
community when the Dunnegans 
arrived. Jim Harris’s baying fox- 
hounds had run through Britts’ 
barnyard when their best cow was 
giving birth. The cow had pan- 
icked, lost her calf, and now the 
Harrises and Britts weren’t speak- 
ing. The Alexanders, for some petty 
reason, had put up a wire fence 
across a path the schoolchildren had 
befii using for years. Mrs. Gillins 
had improvised on Mrs. Stacy’s 
original jellycake recipe and won 
first prize .it the local show while 
Mrs. Stacy came third. The Mc- 
Clanahans filled up one small pot- 
hole, letting the burden of the local 
road upkeep fall on the other men. 
“Everyone’s nerves are like raw- 
leather boodaces left out in the 
rain,’’ Mama deplored. 


Then Mr. Dunnegan dropped by 
our house to tell us he was our new 
neighbour. He had been working in 
a foundry recendy, he told us. 
Foundry work was too much inside, 
so he was of a notion to get back to 
corn and beans. 

“I noticed all the folk here let 
their cows range in the hills,’’ he 
said. “Wondered if it would be all 
right to let my cow range with 
them?’’ 

“Sure,’’ Dad told him. “That is if 
you don’t mind how far you might 
have to go fetch her, come milking 
time.” 

“I’d be glad to take my turn going 
after them,” he offered. 

“Right now, everyone goes after 
his own,” Dad said, looking a litde 
embarrassed. 

Mr. Dunnegan’s brow wrinkled 
upward. “Seems like a lot of wasted 
effort,” he said. “Neighbours out of 
tune?” 

Dad elaborated about the dogs, 
cows, fences and road work, 

“Anything being done about it?” 
Mr. Dunnegan wanted to know. 

Dad looked a bit surprised. 
“Why, nothing we know of, except 
everyone minds his own business.” 

Before leaving, Mr. Dunnegan 
borrowed our axe, and later when 
he returned it, all shiny and nicely 
sharpened, he asked, “Is your belled 
cow the big Guernsey with the sur 
on her forehead?” 

Dad told him it was, whereupon 
Mr. Dunnegan explained that, on 
the side, he fiddled with bell tuning 

«7 



March 


, THE READER^S DIGEST 


and if we liked, in payment for the 
loan of the axe, hcM dean and tune 
our cowbell. 

“A bell tuner ! ” Mama exdaimcd 
after he had gone, voicing the won- 
derment and fascination we all felt. 
It was as if a chimney sweep or pearl 
diver had come to our hills to offer 
his services. 

A few days later, my sister Lou 
and I weift over to the Dunnc- 
gans to learn what we could of this 
strange thing called bell tuning. 
Mrs. Dunnegan, a little round-faced 
woman, took us out to her hus- 
band’s shop. 

We hardly recognized the bell he 
was working on as our old Star’s. 
Mr. Dunnegan had sanded and 
polished it until its sides gleamed. 
Now he was filing round the lower 
edge of it, but he interrupted his 
work to make a seat for us on an old 
box. “See?” he said, ringing our 
bell and another smaller one at the 
same time as if to show wherein he 
was not finished. 

The smaller bell had such a 
pretty sound — dear and silvery, like 
meadowlarks singing from a sum- 
mer daisy field. Not just one sound 
either, but sound on top of sound, 
each -fainter and fainter as if some 
Pied Piper, having reached the top 
of a mountain, were going down 
the far side. 

“This litdc bell had a perfect A 
tone when cast,” he said. “I can use 
it to tunc others by.” 

Mr. Dunnegan scraped a little 
more on Star’s bell, while we 
88 


watched the filings setdc to the 
floor. Then he rang the two together 
again, head cocked to one side, 
listening intently. “Better,” he said, 
but still not satisfied. “Star’s bell has 
a lower tone, close to middle C.” 
His file made lighter and lighter 
strokes, and after each stroke he 
would ring the two bells at once. 
“Bells are like people,” he said. 
“Few are born knowing how to 
harmonize. They have to be tuned.” 

At last, after one final rasp, so 
light that the file seemed hardly to 
touch the metal, Mr. Dunnegan 
rang the bells simultaneously, closed 
his eyes to listen more intensely and 
said, “Ahh,” as one deeply satisfied. 

The little bell’s sweet joyous 
music seemed to accent the now 
pure, rich, mellow tones of Star’s 
bell. Sort of like when Adelaide 
Bntt and Murphy Alexander sang 
duets, I thought, only they hadn’t 
sung any lately on account of their 
parents’ quarrels. 

“How do you tune people so they 
ring pretty together?” 1 asked, now 
that Mr. Dunnegan was finished. 

He looked at me quickly as if I 
had asked a question beyond my 
years. “The ordinary daily shove 
and grind against each other takes 
care of a lot of it,” h*: chuckled, 
then added more thoughtfully, 
“plus a few towering visions of 
what life could be.” 

By middle summer Lou and 1 
knew that Mr. Dunnegan hadn’t 
.stopped with tuning just Star’s bell. 
When he wasn’t busy ploughing his 



THE DAY THE COWS 

corn or hoeing his beans, he was 
cither coming from or going to 
some of the neighbours wi3i a cow- 
bell slung over his shoulder making 
a tinkling sound as he walked. “Got 
to return this post-hole digger,” 
he’d explain, or, “Going to borrow 
a sickle.” We knew the tuned bell 
was his thanks for the borrowed 
Item as it had been for our axe. 

Most of that summer our cows 
had co-operated nicely by coming at 
least part of the way home on their 
own, but one evening we had to go 
far up the side of the mountain after 
them. Where the twisty path left 
the meadow Lou stopped suddenly 
and said, “Listen, I hear music.” I 
heard it, too — soft, sweet and irre 
sistibly beckoning. We started ol? in 
the direction of it as naturally as a 
sunflower turns to the sun. 

Drawing closer, wc soon realized 
that our music came from the min 
gled bells of the cows, although 
different from any sound the min- 
gling had produced before. At last, 
parting some undergrowth, wc 
looked out on to a little grassy clear- 
ing and saw them. There were 
Hi itts’ old Bessy and Conger; Stacys’ 
Tina, Blackic and Sue; McClana- 
hans’ Belinda and (Cherry; our Star, 
Stella and Trudy, and all the others, 
three dozen or more altogether. 'I’he 
lowering sun glinted on the many 
highly polished, perfectly tuned 
bells, making the little meadow 
sparkle as with musical fireflies, and 
the joyous sound seemed to be a 
thing wc could reach out and touch. 


DIDN'T COME HOME 

There was no melody to the 
music, yet it seemed as if every bell 
was ringing at the exact proper time 
in relation to all the others. Some- 
times only one would ring, doing a 
sort of solo, then all at once the 
whole chorus would chime in. 
Suddenly everything in the world 
seemed to be right and moving 
along according to some unhearo, 
unseen, but harmonious pattern. 

“Lor)k at Britts’ and Harrises’ 
cows,” Lnu said softly. “They don’t 
know their owners aren’t speaking, 
do they?” 

“Hallo there,” someone called 
from not \ery far away. 

Turning, wc saw Mr. Dunnegan 
sitting on an old stump at the edge 
of the clearing. Wc hurried over to 
tell him how wonderful wc thought 
the music was. 

“Wish everybody could hear 
them together like this,” Lou said. 
“Let’s get the kids who come for 
the cows to stay, and maybe their 
parents will come looking for them, 
until wc have nearly everyone.” 

“Older folk may not like it, 
having to come way up here after a 
hard’s day work,” Mr. Dunnegan 
said, but his broad grin and spark- 
ling eyes denied the sincerity of his 
argument, and he didn’t stop me 
when 1 went to drive some of the 
cows back that had started to stray 
towards the edge of the clearing uS 
if to go home. 

Little I'cddy McClanahan was 
the first to arrive. There was a look 
of sUrry-eyed wonder in his eyes. 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


“What is it?” he wanted to know. 

“Mr. Dunnegan has tuned all the 
bells,” Lou explained. “Don’t take 
your cows home yet, Teddy. Let’s 
listen a while longer.” 

Soon the Britt, Collins and Alex- 
ander children came, all as utterly 
delighted as we were and quite will- 
ing to wait a while. 

Then some of the older folk 
started arriving. “What’s going 
on?” Mr. Britt demanded, cross at 
first, but in the deepening twilight 
we could see his face softening as 
he listened. Then came Jim Harris, 
Mr. Alexander, Mr. Stacy and Mr. 
McClanahan and others, all de- 
manding to know why the cows 
were being held up, but soon paus- 
ing to listen. 

Dew fell; up from the hollows 
came the odour of wild honeysuckle 
and an early star trembled into 
sight. For some reason, Adelaide 
Britt began to sing softly. Murphy 
Alexander joined in. 

It was Mr. Dunnegan himself 
who broke the spell, saying, “Well, 
these creatures have to be milked.” 
With that we all scrambled up and 
started for home, separating our 
cows only when we got to the bot- 
tom of the mountain and had to go 
our own ways. Britts’ old Bessy and 
Ginger started following Jim Har- 
ris’s cows. “Hey, Jim, head my cows 


back this way, will you?” Mr. Britt 
shouted. 

All of us noticed, because it had 
been so long since they’d had any- 
thing to say to each other, and we 
turned as one to see if Jim would 
do it. It was a thing as light and 
delicate as one of Mr. Dunnegan’s 
final rasps on a bell when Jim 
turned the cows and Mr. Britt 
.yelled his thanks. 

That autumn when we started 
back to school there was a gate in 
the fence that crossed the path/ The 
roads got better, too. The McClana- 
hans put in a whole week’s work on 
them. Some of their cousins wanted 
to drive out from town and listen 
to the cowbells. 

Before the winter set in, the 
Dunnegans moved away. The 
neighbours offered reasons. “That 
old Barton place just won’t make 
anyone a proper living,” or, “He 
was a moving-type man.” 

But Lou seemed to have the best 
answer. On cold winter nights 
when the clang of old Star’s bell, as 
she turned in her stall, awoke us. 
I’d whisper to D)u, “Remember 
Mr. Dunnegan?” 

“Sure.” 

“Why did he go away?” 

“He was a tuner.” 

“But why d»d he go^” 

“He had finished here.” 


Ill Repute 

eldkrly woman in a chemist’s trying to remember the name of 
a medicine, said, “It’s named after a type of bad woman.’’ The assistant 
eventually realized what she wanted : cortisone. — N. M. 



Are You 
a Poor Sleeper? 


A scientist answers 
some basic questions 
about insomnia, 
a problem which we 
aU face at one 
time or another 


Interview with 
Lieutenant-Colonel 
Harold Williams 
Chief of Clinical and 
Social Psychology, Walter 
Rtm Army Institute 
of Kesearch, Washington 


Q Colonel Williams, how 
* wideqiread is insomnia? 

A. It is a frequent disorder. I sup- 
pose everyone has it at times. It’s a 
product of daily tensions and 
anxieties. There is no formal defini- 
tion of insomnia, but if a person is 
unhappy about his inability to sleep, 
then he’s got it. And in severe cases, 
he should get help. 

Doctors are likely to tell you that 
if you worry about insomnia you 
will just get worse. If you simply 
can’t sleep on a given night, get up 
and do something else. Do some- 
thing you like doing— work on your 
hobby or read. 

Q. Is there dailger of sleej^ 
leaaneei going on indefinitely? 

A. You’ll go to sleep eventually. 
The best cure for insomnia, 1 sup- 
pose, is insomnia. It’s unlikely that 
you could stay awake— when you 
are really anxious to go to sleep— 
for more than 36 to 40 hours. Un- 
less, of course, you have been taking 
naps during the day. The doctor 
will try to sec that you avoid taking 
naps to compensate for sleepless 

Cvnitmti fnm U3, Ntm & World Roport 

91 



THE READER^S DIGEST 


March 


nights. The important thing is to 
get to bed at a reasonable hour, and 
to maintain a regular sleep routine. 

Q. How much sleep should a 
person get each night? 

A. Generally speaking, people 
need between seven and eight hours, 
but there is no standard require- 
ment. Some people get by very 
effectively on six hours; others need 
as much as* nine or ten. 

Q. Can losing a little sleep each 
day be harmful? 

A. We think it could. We think 
that you do build up a sleep “debt” 
over a time. And it may have very 
subtle effects. A man may not 
realize he is impaired.* 

Q. Can you catch up on lost 
sleep? 

A. It appears that you can. When 
people have been deprived of sleep 
for, say, four days, and arc then 
allowed to sleep as long as they like, 
they’ll sleep perhaps nine and a half 
to ten hours rather than their usual 
eight on that first recovery night. 
And they’ll continue this pattern for 
three or four nights. But the total 
extra sleep they take is a great deal 
less than what they’ve lost. 

Q. Can you, so to speak, put 
sleep *^in the bank’’? If you’ve got 
a particularly difficult period 
ahead, wouldn’t it help to sleep 
longer for a couple of preceding 
nights? 

A. We are reasonably certain this 
is of no value. On the other hand. 


taking a nap just before you have to 
stay up all night is useful. 

Q. Why do some people toss 
and turn all night and fall into 
a sound sleep when daylight 
comes? 

A. If you begin to fear that you 
can’t get to sleep, you increase your 
tension, which can lead to tossing 
and turning all night. One reason 
•why you may at last fall off to sleep 
about 4 or 5 a.m. has to do with the 
daily temperature cycle. Your oral 
temperature varies about one and a 
half to two degrees through the 24 
hours. You generally reach a high 
temjjcrature point in the late after- 
noon or early evening, and a low 
point sometime between midnight 
and dawn, usually about 4 to 6 a.m. 
When temperature goes down the 
body tends to relax. It’s at the low 
point that you feel sleepiest. 

Q. Does mental exercise before 
retiring deter sleep? 

A. I think that mental exercise 
in the sense of working out prob- 
lems just for enjoyment undoubt- 
edly helps towards reaching the re- 
laxed state. On the other hand, 
working on real problems, such as 
how to stretch your income, builds 
up tension and probably leads to 
insomnia. 

Q. Does coffee keep you 
awake? 

A. Most certainly. Coffee is an 
effective stimulant, about half as 
strong as a commonly used chemical 
“stay-awake” compound. I’m not 
talking about drinking coffee at 



ARE YOU A POOR SLEEPER? 


1^4 

lunch or dinner, or more than an 
hour before you plan to retire. In 
fact, the chances are that a heavy 
coffee drinker — several cups a day — 
is sufficiendy adapted to this so that 
it hasn’t any special effect. 

Q. What about a ‘^nightcap*’ to 
aasiat one in going to sleep? 

A. Well, anything that tends to 
relax the body tends to induce sleep. 
But It depends on the individual. 
Anything that is done regularly by 
a person as part of the process of 
getting to sleep helps that person to 
get to sleep. In general, if a man 
has a reasonably comfortable bed, if 
he retires to a quiet place and ^puts 
himself into the customary position 
of sleep, then sleep is likely to be 
induced. 

Q. Is counting sheep any use? 

A. Counting sheep probably docs 
have an effect, as does any rhyth- 
mic stimulation. Dr. Ian Oswald, 
of Edinburgh University, recently 
completed a study in which an ex- 
traordinary barrage of stimuli was 
used. He periodically flashed a light 
in his subject’s eyes, at the same 
lime giving him a fairly strong elec- 
triL shock and exposing him to loud 
jazz music. He found that this 
rhythmic pattern of stimulation 
would induce sleep quickly, even in 
a man who had had a full night’s 
sleep before the experiment took 
place late in the afternoon. 

Q. Doesn’t that seem to be the 
opposite of relaxation? 

A. You would think so, but this 
involves the monotony of repeated 


stimuli. If a surprising event occurs 
— for example, if you hear a siren 
outside — ^it brings you sharply to 
wakefulness. Even slight, low -inten- 
sity stimulation that is unexpected 
— such as being brushed on the 
face — ^is likely to wake you. But 
monotonous stimuli tend to induce 
sleep. 

Q. Does this mean that if you 
have a loud-ticking* bedroom 
clock, you might sleep better? 

A. I think this is probably true. 

Q. Is it important to keep your 
bedroom cold? 

A. Yes, it’s better to have it cool 
enough so that you need a blanket. 

Q. Is it important to have out- 
side fresh air? 

A. I don’t think it has any basic 
importance. Some people, however, 
find that if they don’t open a win- 
dow they can’t get to sleep, because 
It’s part of their habit pattern of 
getting to sleep. 

Q. Will bedtime snacks help 
you to sleep? 

A. Again, I think it depends en- 
tirely on habit. A ptrson who char- 
acteristically prepares for bed by 
having a light snack — certainly he 
wouldn’t want to cat a heavy meal 
— would find that it was harder to 
sleep if he didn’t have it. 

Q. DoT you know what effect 
smoking has on sleep? 

A. The onset of sleep is accom- 
panied by a number of changes in 
the body, including slowing of 
breathing, dilation of the peripheral 
blood vessels in the hands and feet, 

9i 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


slowing of heart rate. Smoking 
tends to produce vasoconstriction, 
increased heart rate, and more rapid 
breathing— all physiological changes 
that are precisely in the opposite 
direction from those that occur with 
sleep. So I would assume that smok' 
ing would tend to work against go- 
ing to sleep. 

Q. Is a 15-miiiute nap in a 
chair just as beneficial as 15 min- 
utes’ sleep in a bed? 

A. Probably not. The normal bed 
is obviously not a necessity for 
healthy sleep: other cultures sleep 
on floors, in half-sitting positions, 
and in hammocks. Soldiers learn to 
sleep on the bonnets of trucks and 
in dug-outs half full of water. But 
we believe that it’s more difficult to 
reach deep sleep in a position that 
is not customary. 


Q. If you dream exciting 
dresuns, will you be less rested 
than if you dream tranquil 
dreams? 

A. We don’t know. No one work- 
ing with laboratory subjects has ever 
observed a nightmare. Subjects 
don’t have them in the laboratory, 
or they don’t report them. 

Certainly a person who is being 
tethered by nightmarish dreams, 
provoking a great deal ( f fear, is 
not getting a very restful sleep. 
Often the acutely disturbed patient 
who reports insomnia doesn’t dare 
go to sleep, because his dreams are 
so tsrrible he simply can’t tolerate 
them. 

Q. Do you feel that sleep re- 
mains basically a deep mystery 
to men of science? 

A. Thut is certainly true. 


################ 


Cartoon Quips 

Doctor, looking over X-rays, to patient: “Between the big, happy 
family at your office and the big, happy family at home, you’ve got an 
ulcer.” — B. B. 

Angry woman to credit manager : “But you people were the ones who 
said the payments would be easy ! ” — b a. 

Distraught dentist to mother of small boy: “Two fillings. Don’t let 
him bite anyone for at least an hour.” — D. T. 

Employee to boss : “The rat race being what it is, 1 could use a little 
more cheese each week.” — Saio 

Wife to visitbr, as husband lolls on couch : “Fred is content to be a 
leaf on the twig of the limb of the branch office I” — D. M. 

Middle-aged man to friend : “I’ve made a fool of myself many times 
just trying to prove I wasn’t an idiot.” — H. p. 


94 



Drama in Real Life 


The Mission of 
Lieutenant Hilsman 

The story of a * 
young soldier s quest 
for his father 


By Iohn Hubbeli 

O N Sunday afternoon, Dec- 
ember 7, 1941, West Point 
Cadet Roger Hilsman was 
strolling along a path overlooking 
the Hudson River with his mother. 
Only a few weeks earlier the two 
had said good-bye to Roger’s father, 
an Army colonel, as he left the 
United States for duty in the Philip- 
pines, Emma Hilsman, a bright, 
vivacious woman, had seen her 
husband leave for many 
trouble spots in 25 years of 
marriage, but now the de- 
teriorating relations with Japan 
filled her with concern. Col- 
onel Hilsman, who knew S 
the Philippine Islands and 
their people well, had been 



THE READEEfS DIGEST March 


one of a group sent for by Gen- 
eral Douglas MacArthur, then 
Commander-in-Chief of U.S. and 
Philippine forces. 

When the colonel’s overseas or- 
ders had arrived, he had hurried to 
West Point to say good-bye to his 
son. As he was leaving, he apolo- 
gii^d for not having had time to get 
a farewell gift, and insisted that 
Roger take*the newest thing he had 
— an aluminium cigarette case. On 
December 7, Roger thought of this 
incident, and remembered that it 
was now almost Christmas. He sug- 
gested to his mother that they find a 
present for the colonel in the Thayer 
Hotel gift shop, not far from where 
they were walking. 

In the shop, music issued from a 
radio. Then, stunning as a thunder- 
claps came a news flash : Japan had 
attacked Pearl Harbour! The air 
assault had been devastating. With 
the enemy’s strike continuing else- 
where in the Pacific, the Philippines 
were sure to be a centre of action. 

Emma Hilsman went deathly 
pale, but in a ^pw minutes she was 
the colonel’s lady again. “Your 
father knows how to take care of 
himself,” she said quietly. Roger 
nodded. He knew his father’s fierce 
will and the skills he had acquired 
from a lifetime of soldiering with 
distinction. 

During the following weeks, 
Roger and his mother learned from 
the newspapers that Colonel Hils* 
man had been appinted to the com- 
mand of a U.S. Army garrison to 
96 


train 2,000 Filipino volunteers. The 
garrison was at Davao, on Jdinda- 
nao, southernmost of the Philippine^ 
Islands. On December 7, Japanese 
dive bombers Had swept down on 
Davao, which the enemy prized as a 
staging base for an invasion of the 
Dutch East Indies. On December 
20, the town fell to a Japanese task 
force of cruisers, destroyers, aircraft 
carriers and assault ships. 

After that there was no word of 
Colonel Hilsman. The War Depart- 
ment knew nothing. For Emma 
and Roger Hilsman, the flame of 
hope flickered low. 

Then one day Roger was visited 
at West Point by Father Manuel 
Ortiz, Jesuit chaplain to Philippine 
President Manuel Quezon. When 
Quezon and his party were leaving, 
the priest said, they had stopped at 
Negros, an island north of Minda- 
nao. There they had encountered 
Colonel Hilsman. The Filipino 
troops proudly told of their fight at 
Davao under his leadership. After 
the hopless battle, they had made 
an incredible ^T-day march across 
the mountainous Mindanao wilder- 
ness. No man had ever traversed 
that interior before, but Colonel 
Hilsman had led his group through. 
He would not permit anyone not to 
make it I 

The colonel had asked Father 
Ortiz to get word to his family that 
he was alive. The priest recited for 
Roger the batde cry of the Filipino 
troops under Colonel Hilsman’s 
command: Pot-t na \a Davao! (Kill 



THE MISSiqN OF UEUTENANT HILSMAN 


now for Davao!) After his visitor 
had left, RoKr slowly, carefully 
scratched inside his West Point class 
ring the words Father Ortiz had 
brought him : Pot'i na Davao, 

But jubilance was soon shattered. 
The War Department reported that 
Colonel Hilsman was a prisoner of 
war; he had surrendered when the 
enemy threatened the slaughter of 
eWry last captive from Bataan and 
Corrcgidor unless all U.S. forces in 
the Philippines laid down their 
arms. There was no indication 
whatever of where, in the wide East 
Asian sphere of Japanese control, he 
had been imprisoned. 

In his room, Roger sat alone, 
thinking. Suddenly the war had be- 
come very personal to him. He made 
a vow that somehow he would find 
out where his father was, and fight 
his way to him. 

in June 1943, Second-Lieutenant 
Roger Hilsman graduated from 
West Point. Advanced training and 
manoeuvres followed. From Army 
Intelligence he learned that the 
senior American officers captured in 
the Philippines had been taken to 
Formosa. This meant that he must 
get combat duty in the Pacific. One 
day an urgent call came for volun- 
teers for “an extremely dangerous 
mission.” Jungles were mentioned 
in the dispatch. “Jungles” meant 
the Pacific! 

Thus, in May 1944, Roger was 
among 2,600 reinforcement troops 
on their way to join Merrill’s Marau- 
ders, a unit soon tc earn fame in 


Burma. Major-General Frank 
Merrill’s force had just seized an 
airstrip near a Japanese stronghold 
at Myitkyina, in northern Burma. 
The Marauders were barely hang- 
ing on; they needed help. 

The battle for the Myitkyina air- 
strip was to rage for a nightmarish 
55 days, and Roger and the other 
new arrivals learned quickly that 
life depended on nerve, instinct and 
luck. Apart from battle casualties, 
the men were ravaged by dysentery,' 
malaria and jungle rot. At the end, 
there would remain of Roger’s com- 
pany only 23 out of 232 men, and 
the entire officer complement of six 
had to be replaced twice. Roger 
lasted a long time — 25 days — ^before 
his number came up. 

He was leading an advance pa- 
trol, probing deep into the jungle, 
seeking out positions of enemy 
strength. Suddenly he signalled his 
scouts to a halt; he had seen the 
glint of metal in a clump of bush 
ahead. In the next instant, gunfire 
burst from the bush. Roger felt his 
carbine ripped from his grasp, saw 
it go dancing through the air, saw 
his leading scout fall. Then a blow 
on the chest sent him sprawling into 
a shallow ditch below a low rice- 
paddy wall. There was a tingling 
numbness in his right side, and for 
a few seconds he lay there thinking, 
“It can’t be serious. I can’t leave 
this war — not yet!” 

As Japanese soldiers moved to- 
wards him, he heaved himself up, 
lurched over the paddy wall. Rifle 

97 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


fire slammed into the wall; he ran 
low towards the protective cover of 
deeper jungle, reached it, found his 
other two scouts. The three headed 
back towards their own lines 
through the protective jungle. 

With their lines in sight, Hoger 
fell unconscious. The battalion med- 
ical officer found i6 bullet holes in 
his uniform, and four bullets had 
struck hofne. Three had entered 
above his right hip bone. The fourth 
had been heading straight for his 
heart, but had been deflected by 
something in his right breast pocket. 
It was the aluminium cigarette case 
his father had given him at West 
Point. Obviously, Roger still had 
unfinished business in this world. 

Surgery lasted a painful eternity as 
Dr. Gordon Scagrave, the “Burma 
Surgeon,” worked slowly, skilfully. 
Roger was then evacuated to an 
army hospital in Shimbwiyang. 
There, after weeks of convalescence, 
he began haunting British and U.S. 
headquarters. What were Allied 
plans for Formosa? Was anything 
known of the prison camps there? 
Eventually, he learned that the Jap- 
anese, fearing an invasion of For- 
mosa, had removed the senior U.S. 
officer-prisoners to a prison camp 
near Mukden, Manchuria! 

Roger was warned, however, that 
many officers captured early in the 
war had been tried fur “war crimes” 
and executed. Also that conditions 
of transport from the Philippines to 
Formosa had been horrible: prison- 
ers had been packed into the holds 
95 


of ships and given little or no food 
or water; disease had killed them by 
the thousands. 

But Roger would not believe that 
his father was dead. The young 
lieutenant determined now to get 
to Mukden. He hitchhiked by plane 
to Kunming, China, hoping to line 
up a field assignment with a unit 
fighting near Manchuria. “No more 
combat for you,” he was told. He 
went to Ledo, India. Everywhere 
the same answer : “With your 
wounds, the war is over. Go honrte.” 
But Roger knew that his own per- 
sonal war was far from finished. 

In the end, he went to Colonel 
William Peers, head of the 
Office of Strategic Services opera- 
tions in Burma. Peers asked a curt 
question : “Why do you want more 
combat?” 

“Fm a professional, sir. Pve had 
only 25 days of this war. I’d like 
another crack at it.” 

Peers guessed, correctly, that the 
war meant something special to this 
young officer. And he could use a 
West Pointer with a knowledge of 
jungles. “O.K., lieutenant,” he 
said, “I’ve got a job for you.” 

Roger’s appointment was as OwSS 
liaison officer to the British 14th 
Army in Burma. Four months later. 
Peers gave him command of his 
own guerrilla battalion. Now, with 
300 Burmans, he cut down enemy 
patrols, fell on outposts, supply de- 
pots, trains, truck convoys. So effec- 
tive was Roger’s guerrilla band that 
the Japanese pulled some 3,000 men 




coll— Clolh Minron Dressmaterials 


99 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


out of the Hghting in the north to 
run him down. Still, each day he 
and his guerrillas rained havoc on 
Japanese concentrations in a differ- 
ent area, then faded off to some 
distant fastness. 

By the middle of 1945, the Allies 
controlled Burma, and Roger, who 
had been promoted to captain, dis- 
banded his guerrillas and reported 
back to Peers, enquiring when be 
could leave for Mukden. Q)lonel 
Peers now knew of Roger’s deter- 
mination to find his father, but he 
could only give him another liaison 
job, in southern China. 

Then, even as Roger was en route 
to his new post, word arrived of the 
atomic attacks on Japan and that 
the U.S. high command had or- 
dered that the officer-prisoners at 
Mukden were to be rescued. Peers 
instandy sent word to Roger: he 
was to draw a parachute and pro- 
ceed immediately to Hsian, in 
northern China, to join the rescue 
team. 

Lieutenant Ifdman (right) reunited 
ii tlh his Jather 



Roger took off for Hsian at mid- 
night, and arrived there after dawn 
— to find that the rescue team 
had already left. He was hustled 
aboard a B-24 and followed. There 
had been no formal Japanese sur- 
render, but the Emperor had 
directed his forces to cease resist- 
ance. It was feared, however, that 
the fanatical Kwangtung Army in 
Manchuria might slaughter its cap- 
tives and keep on fighting. 

Hours later, Mukden hove into 
view and, as the plane approached 
an airfield, Roger prepared to jump. 
But the pilot stopped him; two Rus- 
sian aircraft were on the airstrip be- 
low, which meant that the Japanese 
had surrendered and it was safe to 
land. 

On the field, a Japanese gen- 
eral explained that orders to sur- 
render had just arrived; that the 
rescue team which had parachuted 
in ahead of Roger had been cap- 
tured, but was now being released. 
The general told Roger how to find 
the prison camp near the city. 

At the gale of the camp, a (j.I. 
sentry snapped a salute, pumped 
Roger’s hand. Roger braced him- 
self to ask the question he had 
fought his way across the world to 
ask : “Is there a Colonel Hilsman 
here?” 

The answer came fast and clear— 
and it was almost incredible. “Yes, 
sir, that barracks there. First floor.” 

Roger stared at the sentry, trying 
to take in what he had heard. Then, 
by an immense effort of will, he was 



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THE READER’S DIGEST 


moving, approaching the building. 
He was aware of men coming for- 
ward and shouting at him, but he 
walked past them, as if in a trance. 
Slowly he climbed the stairs. 

There, at the top, sitting on a 
wooden bunk, was his father. 
Three and a half years of im- 
prisonment had left him thin to 
the point of gauntness, but the old 
military bearing was there. For a 


long, uncertain moment, each 
searched the other’s face. The older 
man rose slowly, a look of amazed, 
unbelieving recognition in his eyes. 
Softly, almost inaudibly, he said, 
“My God. My God.” Then the two 
soldiers embraced, and Roger said, 
“I’ve brought you a present, sir.” 
In his hand was the aluminium 
cigarette case his father had given 
him almost four years before. 




First Flight 

J. WHITE-HAIRED, bcspectaclccl lady, with a small boy and a smaller 
girl in tow, walked into the American Airlines building at New York's 
Idlewild Airport. “This is my first ride in an aeroplane, and it’s my grand- 
children’s first ride, too,” she told the clerk who took her tickets. Assur- 
ing her all was in order, he put the baggage on the conveyor belt. “Your 
flight is loading right now, Gate 6,” he said. 

The old lady and the children trudged to Gate 6. Directly over the 
baggage<onveyor belt at Gate 6 there is a chrome railing between the 
arcade and the belt. The old lady pushed the children under the railing, 
then ducked under it herself. One by one she picked up the children and 
set them on the belt. A suitcase and a bag of golf clubs followed. Then 
the old lady, undaunted, sat down on the belt. The momentum tipped 
her back a bit, but she steadied herself and managed to duck as she went 
through the luggage aperture. She whirled swiftly into the spiral steel 
chute and down into the baggage room. “Good heavens I ” cried one of 
the baggage handlers. “Here comes another one!” 

Strong hands caught her as she shot after the suitcase and the golf clubs, 
and she was lifted out of the chute and seated on some luggage along 
with the children. “Well,” she said, “that was quite an experience.” 

“Yeah,” said one of the baggage men. “For us, too.” 

“Isn’t this Gate 6?” asked the old lady. 

By that time a covey of American Airlines personnel had rushed to the 
baggage room, and they carefully examined the three chutists. There 
wasn’t a scratch or a floor burn among them. Then the grandmother and 
children were escorted to Gate 6, and even through the entrance bridge 
into the plane. “You’ve all been so kind,” said the old lady, settling into 
her seat. “I’m sure I’m going to enjoy the trip.” — N- M, 


lOs. 





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103 


The rise of x^nereal disease is now a major problem, 
for public health authorities exeryzvhere. This 
stark and shocking case history — typical of many 
countries — illustrates the spread of a scourge that 
was once nearly eradicated 



The Vicious Chain 


By Fred Warsiioisky 


F \cis(, e*ich other in a small 
office in Newark, New Jersey, 
were a young man and a teen- 
ager. The man was ly-ycar-old Tim 
Lindman who has one of the most 
important public-health jobs in the 
United States. Tirn is a vcnereal- 
disea.se investigator, one of hun- 
dreds trained by the U.S. Public 
Health Service. He is now ap- 
pointed to the Newark Health De- 
partment. More precisely, he is an 
epidemiologist, whose specialized, 
vital task is to trace the chain of 
venereal infection from patient to 
patient until all coiUacts have been 
unearthed and treated. It is a tough, 
demanding job that leads to bars, 
luxury flats, private houses, street 


corners, brothels and, alarmingly, 
schools and jilaygrounds. 

The youth he was talking to that 
day was a i6-ycar-old I shall call 
Victor. A test had revealed the 
presence of reagin in Victor’s blood. 
Reagin is an antibody manufac- 
tured by the body in response to an 
inva.sion of Treponema pallidum, 
the organism that causes syphilis. 
There were other signs, too, indi- 
cating secondary syphilis. He was 
immediately treated with penicillin 
and sent to Tim Lindman. 

Lindman represents the most vital 
part of America’s venereal-disease 
programme, the contact interview. 
Syphilis is a wildly infectious dis- 
ease. Lindman’s task was to And nl! 


Condensed from Today's Health, published by the American Medical Association 



VV. THE VICIOUS CHAIN 


those people who might have been 
infected by Victor and who might 
themselves now be capable of 
spreading the disease. 

“Victor, the doctor says that you 
have syphilis,” Lindman began. 
“You may know it as bad blood, 
syph or by some other term. It is a 
venereal disease, and virtually the 
only way a person can contract it is 
by sexual contact with an infected 
person.” 

At this, the youngster leaned for- 
ward to object, but Lindman waved 
him into silence. “The germ that 
causes the disease cannot live out- 
side the human body for more than 
a few seconds. So it is impossible to 
catch the disease from a toilet seat 
or a dirty drinking glass. 

“Now, we’ve started vou on a 
course of treatment and you will be 
cured, but what about the person 
vou caught it from? And you may 
have given it to other people before 
coming here. That is what I would 
like to talk to you about. Since last 
Christmas, how many different girls 
have you had relations with?” 

Lindman’s choice of Christmas 
as ,i starting-point was deliberate. 
It was almost exactly six months 
earlier, a critical period during 
which Victor was in a highly in- 
fectious stage of the disease. 

“I can’t remember,” the boy said 
angrily. 

“Come on, Victor, surely you can 
make a guess. Was it 20 girls, 50?” 

“No, it was more like five.” 

“All right, let’s talk about those 


five girls. This interview is confi- 
dential, but we must know the 
names of all the people with whom 
you had contact so that we can help 
them before the disease permanent- 
ly damages their health and before 
they can spread it to others.” 

“O.K. The first was Lila. That 
was the day after Christmas. We 
were at a party and ” 

The interview coritinued for 
another half an hour. Before it was 
over, Victor had supplied ten full 
names— girls with whom he had 
had sexual relations. Their ages 
were between 12 and 17. 

The information provided by the 
youngster set Tim Lindman on a 
trail that eventually led to 96 other 
teenagers, in all parts of the city 
and as far away as South Carolina. 
Eighteen of them had syphilis. Tim 
Lindman’s sleuthing prevented 
countless other youngtters from 
catching the frightful disease. 

Because of its mode of transmis- 
sion, syphilis has long been a taboo 
subject in most American homes. 
Few schools offer Any information. 
This basic lack of knowledge, 
coupled with increasingly casual 
sexual behaviour, creates a climate 
in which venereal disease can spread 
like a raging fire over the land. 

Each year syphilis kills 4,000 
Americans, and in 1962 it infected 
a reported 20,000. Moreover, a re- 
cent survey conducted by the 
American Social Health Associa 
tion in co-operation with the Ameri- 
can Medical Association revealed 



THE READER^S DIGEST 


that nearly 50 per cent of syphilis 
cases go unreported. Expert opinion 
suggests that possibly 1,200,000 
people in the United States are now 
afflicted with untreated syphilis. 

The microbe passes from one per- 
son to another only through the 
mucous surfaces of the genital tract 
or mouth, or through a break in the 
skin. Once these delicate, spiral 
organisms ^et beneath the skin or 
mucuous membranes, they enter the 
lymph capillaries and are gently 
floated to the nearest lymph gland. 
Here they roost, multiplying and 
growing. Within a short time they 
continue the journey, passing into 
the bloodstream, which whirls them 
to every part of the body. Eventually 
the pale, flexing microbe has bur 
rowed into the internal organs. The 
attack is swift and secret, for not 
one outward sign of the disease’s 
course has been displayed. 

Now firmly entrenched, syphilis 
commences its malignant, extensive 
and prolonged destruction of tissue, 
bone and organ. Usually about 
three weeks afttr infection the first 
sign appears — a chancre, or sore, at 
the point of contact. About nine 
weeks later, lesions and rashes pit 
the body, and syphilis is now in its 
most infectious stage. A sore throat, 
swollen lymph glands and fever 
often accompany the skin eruptions. 
Singly or collectively the symptoms 
may resemble those of any one of a 
dozen other diseases. 

These signs vanish of their own 
accord, but the disease lies hidden 


and enters the final two stages — 
latent and late syphilis. The disease 
may slumber quietly within its host 
for many years. Then with little or 
no warning it launches a debilitat- 
ing attack, perhaps on the nervous 
system, destroying the body’s psy- 
chomotor functions. It may mount 
the spinal column and erode the 
reasoning centres of the brain, caus- 
ing insanity, or it may attack the 
optic nerve, pitching its victims into 
blindness. The Treponema may 
invade the cardiovascular system, 
damaging the aorta and perhaps 
the coronary arteries. Death often 
results. 

In 1910, a reasonably effective 
method of treating syphilis was dis- 
covered: Salvarsan, a preparation 
of organic arsenic. But the cure took 
18 months. Then, in 1943, Dr. John 
Mahoney, a U.S. public-health re- 
searcher, found that penicillin com- 
pletely routed the Treponema, This 
quickly became the standard treat- 
ment for syphilis. The recom- 
mended course in the early stages of 
infection is 2-4 million units of peni- 
cillin injected in one dose. By 1954 
an all-out educational treatment 
and investigation campaign sent the 
number of cases plummeting to- 
wards the elusive goal of complete 
eradication. 

But since 1957, syphilis has made 
a stunning comeback. One of the 
reasons was stated by Dr. William 
Brown, a leading specialist in 
venereal-disease treatment: *‘As a 
programme for control of a disease 




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VD. THE VICIOUS CHAIN 


approaches the end point, meaning 
eradication, it is not the disease but 
the programme that is likely to be 
eradicated.” Funds to fight syphilis 
were sharply reduced, and the 
disease made new gains. Against 
the rising tide, epidemiologists such 
as Tim Lindman struggle to break 
the chain of infection. 

Lindman moved rapidly to round 
up the contacts named by Victor. 
Of the ten girls, four were found to 
be infected. Another one had gone 
to stay in South Carolina. “I gave 
the information to the New Jersey 
State Health Department in Tren- 
ton,” said Lindman, “and they 
phoned the South Carolina depart- 
ment. Within two days the girl had 
been found. She was infected and 
they treated her there. She named 
four sex contacts, all in Newark.” 

Soon Lindman was working with 
several dozen boys and girls in a 
chain of infection that seemed with- 
out end. “The five infected girls we 
got from Victor provided us with 
1 8 more names. We were lucky, 
though — only two of that group 
were infected. These j two boys 
named another ii girls, with three 
infections. They in turn led us to 15 
more contacts, but again we were 
lucky. Most of the boys had been 
with them just before they had 
picked up the infection, and we 
found only one positive in this 
group.” 

At this point, the epidemiological 
<-hart that Tim Lindman was draw- 
ing began to take on the appearance 


of a huge, somewhat misshapen 
Christmas tree. “I was beginning to 
hope we were nearing the end, for 
the boy I was then interviewing — 
Frank, No. ii on the list of in- 
fections that could be traced to Vic- 
tor — was certain about the number 
of girls he’d had relations with dur- 
ing the infectious period — five.” 

Lindman located the five girls and 
brought them to the cMnic. Blood 
tests revealed only one infection. 

“I had my fingers crossed at this 
point,” recalls Tim. “If only that 
girl had not been too promiscuous, 
we might have stopped it right 
there.” But she named seven con- 
tacts. Wearily, Tim went after the 
new crop. Six of them were free of 
the disease. The seventh was Victor. 

“I went out after him and 
brought him down to the clinic. The 
two of us sat in the interview room 
and waited for results of the blood 
test. He had finished his treatment 
the first week in July, and the date 
of this exposure was the middle of 
August. There was a chance that 
enough penicillin Was still in his 
bloodstream to prevent reinfection.” 

The slim chance vanished — Vic- 
tor’s blood test again was unques- 
tionably positive. The chain of 
infection he himself had started had 
twisted round to reinfect him. 
What was more, he named five new 
contacts. They would undoubtedly 
name still more, and the chain 
would stretch on and on. Would 
it' ever end? Tim Lindman set off 
to the first address. 



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A T Dulles International Airport 
/!!L in Washington, a complete 
X lounge — chairs, people, ash- 
trays, everything — detaches itself 
from the terminal building and 
moves off on huge wheels to deposit 
passengers aboard a jet parked 
across the field. This is one more 
example of the way air travel has 
gone beyond the fringe. 

The air passenger, that frail 
bundle of doubt, is now processed, 

Condensed from The 


packaged and sealed up in an 
aluminium tube like so much frozen 
rhubarb. The pilot, that clean-cut, 
confident young fellow you used to 
sec up there in his shirt sleeves, 
steering, has become a disembodied 
middle-aged voice out of the uphol- 
stery telling you you’re 35,000 feet 
above (Jeneva. You have to take his 
word ; it’s too far down to see what s 
written on the roofs. 

All things considered, it’s easy to 

Saturday Evening Post 


HI 


THE READER'S DIGEST 


see why a small band of us were 
drawn to Los Angeles recendy when 
Trans World Airlines decided to 
re-enact the first “all air” passenger 
flight across America, aboard a 1929 
Ford trimotor, known in its day as 
the Tin Goose. TWA planned to 
put a crew in vintage uniforms and 
haul 13 terrified people across the 
United States, following the same 
schedule as<he first flight which left 
Los Angeles at dawn on October 
25, 1930. 

We were feted the night before at 
the Los Angeles airport in what was 
referred to by TWA personnel as 
the “last supper” — a frankness that 
has simply disappeared from 
modern air travel. The happiest 
people there were the old-timers 
who had flown in the trimotor when 
it vras new and were not going to 
have to do it again. They were full 
of helpful phrases like “Fear is just 
a state of mind.” 

Everyone who wasn’t going on 
the Tin Goose flight, in fact, was in 
high good humour. A TWA vice- 
president recalled that on one flight 
he had “thrown up all the way from 
Burlingame to Winslow.” When 
a waiter dropped a tray of dishes, 
TWA president Charles Tilling- 
hast chuckled and said that it was 
probably one of his airliners 
landing. 

Our trimotor, we were told, 
would be one of about ten still in 
one piece, so to speak. One is in the 
Ford Museum in Dearborn, Michi- 
gan, where it belongs. Ours, 


Number 414H, had been tested and 
apparently found wanting by the 
U.S. Navy 33 years ago. It had since 
hauled passengers, carried chicle , 
gum in Guatemala and sprayed 
gipsy moths in Montana. It now 
belonged to John Louck, of Mon- 
mouth, Illinois, who tours aviation 
shows, giving passenger flights at 
three dollars a head. TWA had 
-hired the Goose and its barnstorm- 
ing crew for the re-enactment. I 
calculated it had about six more 
miles to go before collapse. 

Our pilot, 39-year-old Jack Mar- 
shall, had flown in Korea and been 
a crop duster and barnstormer (the 
kind of background that made you 
wonder if he hadn’t just about run 
through his luck). The co-pilot, 
Dave Runyan, was 24 — ten years 
younger than the plane. 

Our first sight of the floodlit Tin 
Goose, at 4.30 a.m. in the Los Ange- 
les smog, inspired great confidence. 
It made you think that if this thing 
could fly, anything could. The two 
side engines were encased in what 
looked to me like discarded milk 
cans, with slits in them, the various 
loose metal parts kept together by 
big safety-pins. The third engine, 
stuck on the front, was the one some 
of us liked the best. You couldn’t 
see whether it was running or not, 
which left you free to concentrate 
on the other two. 

The wheels were hitched on to 
metal struts, with a small cable 
added, no doubt to catch them in 
case they started falling off. The 





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THE READER'S DIGEST 


cabin was panelled in peeling 
mahogany and had 15 metal seats» 
which vibrated like reducing 
machines. The no smoking sign was 
nailed permanendy to the wail to 
remind us that the fuel tanks were 
in the ceiling over our heads, and 
we came to look forward to the 
clean smell of fresh petrol in the 
cabin after each stop. It meant they 
had remefhbered to refuel. Nobody 
tells a passenger that kind of thing 
any more. 

A sign by the throttles read inten- 
tional SPINNING PROHIBITED. The 
pilots could slide open their side 
windows, which was handy, because 
the windscreen would often fog up, 
and they could reach round and 
wipe it with paper towels. 

The only constant in air travel 
is luggage. TWA sent our bags 
ahead on another plane to Kansas 
City, a sure sign that we would 
spend the night somewhere else, like 
Wichita, which we did. Our bags 
were then sent to Newark, and we 
spent the night in Columbus, Ohio. 

The real test, of course, was get- 
ting our tin packing-crate into the 
air, and, for me, the issue was in 
doubt on every single take-off. We 
made 13 of them. We would charge 
down the runway, blue flames 
spouting from our right engine, 
smoke pouring out of the left. That 
morning as we laboured into the 
sky over Los Angeles and disap- 
peared into a blinding bank of grey 
smog, we enjoyed our first thrill of 
Passenger Participation. None of 
114 


that radar stuff here. The pilot 
couldn't see a foot farther than we 
could. 

This was followed by many other 
thrills denied air passengers today. 
A trip back to the chemical toilet 
jeopardized the equilibrium of the 
entire plane and caused the pilot to 
crank the trim control and glare 
back over his shoulder. 1 found the 
" heating-and-cooling system con- 
sisted of paper napkins — stuffed in 
the vent above the window for heat, 
removed for cooling. During cold 
spells we wrapped our feet in news- 
papers. It was nice not to have to 
ring for the stewardess. 

We enjoyed going through the 
Rockies instead of ot/cr them. You 
really get an idea of how formidable 
a mountain is when it's above your 
plane. In fact, the only thing that 
took our minds off the mountains 
and made us wonder how the pilot 
planned to get through them (espe- 
cially after he came back for a new 
map) was when a bolt came out 
of the left engine. Oil spurted 
from the hole and the engine began 
to look like a hot-fudge sundae. 
Somebody asked the pilot when the 
engine would pack up, but thefc 
was not much point in asking ques- 
tions — the cabin noise in a Tin 
Goose makes it like putting through 
a long-distance call next to a pneu- 
matic drill. 

At Parker, Arizona, where we 
put down to look for a new bolt, we 
discovered something else that has 
gone out of air tra\el. Our arrival 



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THE READER^S DIGEST 


was an Event. Policeman Lauren 
Hightower saw an unauthorized 
object about to drop on his territory 
and came to the airfield in his squad 
car with a gun. He was followed by 
Joe Burns, who wore a T-shirt that 
said MR. HORSEPOWER. He had been 
filling his swimming pcx)l when he 
recognized our faltering antique 
overhead from having worked on 
trimotors in San Diego. Mr. Horse- 
power went to the Ford garage, and 
we soon had a handsome new brass 
bolt — from an outboard motor. 

We had some effect on nearly 
everybody we flew over. As we 
strained for altitude over the Colo- 
rado River, a woman on water-skis 
took one look at us and fell off. In 
Winslow small boys came to stroke 
the (k)osc\s corrugated flanks, and 
a woman said wc were the biggest 
thing to happen there since the 
Hopi Red Indian snake dance. In 
Amarillo men in cowboy bools came 
from the Chamber of Commerce to 
roll out a red carpet for us. 

Flying at 2,000 feet at a sedate 
speed of aboiit*85 miles an hour, wc 
passengers acquired all the power 
of back-scat drivers. To get to Albu- 
querque, for instance, you follow 
Route 66, turn right over the dry 
river bed and follow the railway 
lines. The pilot claimed we passed 
a car on Route 66. I claimed it was 
parked. A lot of cars passed us. 

After Indianapolis, en route to 
Dayton, we detoured over Antioch 
College Dccause one of the passen- 
gers had gone to school there. At 

is6 


Pittsburgh Mrs. Thelma Jean Hiatt 
Harman, TWA’s first stewardess, 
came aboard to carry our last lunch 
trays. Now a grandmother, she wore 
the very same white uniform in 
which she had carried trays aboard 
DC-z’s. “Wc used to say, ‘Wc carry 
it up on a tray and bring it back in 
an airsick container,’ ” Thelma Jean 
reminisced. 

Wc found the swimming-pool 
count very high between Philadel- 
phia and Princeton, where we ob- 
served a man mowing his lawn in 
tennis shoes. Wc followed the New 
Jersey Turnpike to Newark, using 
Exit 14 to reach the airport. And we 
l{new it was Newark because it was 
marked on the roof. 

It had taken us nearly three full 
days — 54 hours and seven minutes 
— to get there, a full day longer 
than the original flight. Twenty-five 
thousand people had crossed the 
States in the 350 jet trips that took 
them ^5,000 feet up while we were 
down there scraping trees. But I 
cl.um wc were the only ones who 
l{ncw where we had been. 

Wc all st(x>d a little taller, some- 
how, as we watched the colour drain 
slowly from the face of the Newark 
Airport functionary who asked our 
pilot what “flight plan” he had in 
mind for going on to Idlewild. 
“Flight plan?” our pilot said in the 
tone a man gets when he has jusi 
crossed the United States ot 
America by railway line and roof- 
top. “I thought Pd just fly out o\cr 
the water and look around for it.” 




My Most 

Unforgettable By Russel Crouse 


Character 

Oscar Hammerstein gave the 
world, in a succession of 
imperishable lyrics, something 
of his own profound faith in 
the goodness of life 



ii8 


I F EVER there was one in real life, 
the tall, rugged man with the 
closely<ropped greying hair quali- 
fied as the “cockeyed optimist” of 
whom he was to write in one of his 
most famous songs. But that night 
in New York City, watching him 
enter the theatre, I suspected that 
his optimism might be nearing the 
ragged edge of doubt. 

As the houselights dimmed, he 
slipped into a seat on the aisle beside 
his wife and touched her hand for 
a moment. Surrounding them was 
that most cynical of juries : a Broad- 
way first-night audience, ready to 
pass judgement on the new musi<.al 
for which he had written the book 
and lyrics. 

“If they don’t like this one, I 
don’t know what I’m going to do,” 
he had said to his wife on the way 
to the theatre. For, after more than 
a decade of success, he had been 
racked by almost ii years of 
failures, as inexplicable as they were 
demoralizing. Nor did this venture 
hold much promise of ending the 
lean years. There were no stars in 
the cast. The out-of-town reviews 
had not been enthusiastic. Opening 
night was not even sold out. 

After the curtain went up, he 
watched intently — not the stage but 




MY MOST UNFORGETTABLE CHARACTER 


the audience. He took his wife’s 
hand again, (“Playwrights’ wives,” 
he once told me, “arc the only 
women who know how a man feels 
when his wife is having a baby.”) 
But as the first act unfolded, he re- 
laxed, recognizing the signs he had 
learnt to hope for : a smile here, a 
warm sigh there, laughter, a flash 
of animation. At first just sparks m 
the dim auditorium, they gradually 
fused into a glow whose warmth 
you could actually feel. 

That night’s radiance extended 
far beyond the St. James 'Theatre 
and far past that night of March 31, 
1943. For the play was Ol^ahomal 
and the man was Oscar Hammer- 
stein II. On that night he and his 
composer - collaborator, Richard 
Rodgers, made theatrical history. 
This was no conventional “musical 
comedy” or “operetta.” The in- 
spired team had created the 
“musical play,” a new form in' 
which words and music coalesced 
into brilliant unity. 

When Oscar Hammerstein 
awoke the next morning and read 
the reviews, he could well have sung 
his own lyric : 

Oh, what a beautiful mornin’ ! 

Oh, what a beautiful day ! 

Tve got a beautiful feelin’ 

Everything’s going my way ! * 

Russel Ceouse is the co-author of many 
tamous hits, including Call Me Madam For 
his recent collaboration, The Sound of Music, 
Oscar Hammerstein II v/rotc the lyrics. 


The calamitous years were over. 
With Rodgers, Hammerstein went 
on to fashion hit after hit, among 
them Carousel, South Pacific, The 
King and I, Flower Drum Song, 
The Sound of Music. 

When Oscar Hammerstein died 
on August 23, i960, his fame was as 
wide as the world. Millions of play- 
goers on every continent had paid 
everything from dollart to drach- 
mas to see the musical shows he 
had written with Rodgers and, 
earlier, with Jerome Kern, Sig- 
mund Romberg, George Gershwin, 
Rudolf Fnml, Vincent Youmans 
and Arthur Schwartz — 46 shows 
in all. 

His imperishable lyrics were on 
people’s lips and in their hearts: 
“Or Man River,” “Some En- 
chanted Evening,” “People Will 
Say We’re in Love,” “Indian Love 
Call,” “Lover Come Back To Me,” 
“It Might As Well Be Spring,” 
“June Is Bustin’ Out All Over,” 
“The Last Time I Saw Paris,” 
“Climb Ev’ry Mountain.” 

Yet it wasn’t just because of his 
prodigious triumphs that Broadway 
darkened its lights for three minutes 
on a night shortly after his death, 
and that London’s theatreland fol- 
lowed with a similar tribute. It was 
because Oscar Hammerstein was 
probably the most beloved man in 
the world of the theatre. 

And not without reason. Framed 
on his bedroom wall was a certifi- 
cate which read : “Oscar Hammer- 
stein is a good boy.” It was just as 

119 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


true at 65, when he died, as it was 
at eight, when he was at school. 

1 can’t recall ever having heard 
anybody say anything against Oscar 
Hammerstein, which is truly re- 
markable for Broadway. The ex- 
planation is that Oscar made an art 
of respecting people. He didn’t 
idealize them; he didn’t think it 
was important to love them all — but 
he did beirevc it was important to 
understand them. 

There was no one he wouldn’t 
help. In fact, that’s how 1 met him, 
a good many years ago when I was 
a new boy in the theatre, entangled 
in my own ineptitude. I had written 
my first musical, and when it 
opened out of town it resembled a 
nightmare. A few days later a tran- 
quil young man appeared in the 
confusion. 

It was Oscar. He had once written 
lyncs for the music of Lewis (iens- 
Icr, one of the show’s producers. He 
had heard that his friend’s enterprise 
was in trouble, and for ten days he 
wf>rked valiantlv to save something 
that couldn’t be saved. I had my 
first Hop, but what was more im- 
portant, I had a new friend. 

There was something about Oscar 
that drew him to people with prob- 
lems, and he always knew what to 
say to them. A taxi driver who 
drove him .ibout a great deal 
summed it up: “He was a healing 
sort of guy.” 

Oscar accepted the simple verities 
and put them into graceful phrases 
to enable the world to feel with him. 


Joseph Fields, who collaborated 
with him on Flower Drum Song, 
says, “Oscar really believed that love 
conquers all, that virtue triumphs, 
that dreams do come true.” He 
never denied the “accusation” that 
he was a sentimentalist. 

“There’s nothing wrong with 
sentiment,” he once said to me. 
“The things people are sentimental 
about arc the fundamental things in 
life. I don’t deny the ugly and the 
tragic — but somebody has to keep 
saying that life’s pretty wonderful, 
too. Bectiuse it’s true. 1 guess I just 
can’t write anything without hope 
in it.” 

Oscar was big— six foot two and 
nearly 200 [loiinds, and he walked 
with a long, easy gait. His most re- 
markable feature was his rough- 
hewn face, which Mary Martin 
likened to carved granite. “But then 
you saw those blue eyes,” M.iry 
says, “and you recognized behind 
the rugged exterior Oscar’s great 
gentleness, sensitivity and deep sin- 
cerity.” What made him great in his 
field was that sincerity, the wisdom 
of his sentimentalism, the philoso- 
phy of his hope- -and an une/ring 
sense of theatre. 

Everyone found a ready explana- 
tion for that sense of theatre in 
Oscar’s paternal grandfather, Oscar 
Hammerstein I, who certainly had 
it. I’hc first Oscar was a short, bom- 
bastic (fcrman immigrant who be- 
came rich through a cigar making 
machine, which he invented, and 
vaudeville, which he didn’t invent 



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MY MOST UNFORGETTABLE CHARACTER 


call me, put the telephone on his 
piano and play me what he had 
written the night before.” Shou/ 
Boat opened in 1927, ran for 572 
performances, has had countless 
revivals and been filmed three 
times. 

With the stock-market crash in 
1929, a pall settled over Broadway. 
But Hollywood had been clamour- 
ing for Oscar for years, and he went 
to California with a fabulous con- 
tract. 

However, his integrity didn’t fit 
in with the slick, superficial musical 
films of the day. His first two pic- 
tures were flops, and eventually the 
studio offered him 100,000 dollars 
to call off his contract. “The most 
money 1 ever heard of anyone 
getting not to write,” he said 
wryly. 

“The furies” moved in on him in 
earnest, bringing a series of failures. 
He shuttled between Hollywood 
and New York— films and theatres. 
His first marriage had ended in 
divorce after 11 years. His one truly 
major success of this otherwise dark 
[x:rirxl was his second marriage — to 
Dorothy Blanchard, an Australian 
actress. It was she who almost inad- 
vertently turned the tide ot his frus- 
tration. One night in Hollywood 
she said, “It’s better to wear out 
than to rust out.” The next morn- 
ing Oscar told her, “We’re going 
back East to stay.” They went to 
their farm in Bucks County, Penn- 
sylvania. 

There, one day in August 1942, 


Oscar got the most important tele- 
phone call of his life. It was from 
Richard Rodgers, with whom he 
had once collaborated on a song for 
the Columbia Varsity Show. Rod- 
gers had gone on to Broadway 
acclaim with Lorenz Hart, writing 
a succession of brilliant musical- 
comedy hits. The next day, at lunch 
in New York, Rodgers explained 
his problem. The Theatre Guild 
wanted Rodgers and Hart to turn 
Lynn Riggs’s play, Green Grow 
The Lilacs, into a musical. Rodgers 
was eager. Hart was ill and adam- 
antly opposed. Rodgers was loath 
to go on without Hart but had a 
family and a career to consider. 
Hammerslein was reluctant to re- 
place a partner of long standing. It 
was agreed that Dick would try 
again to interest Hart. He did, but 
Hart wouldn’t even listen to him, A 
quick handshake a few days later 
launched the historic partnership of 
Rodgers and Hammerstein. 

The first decision was that they 
would not let any of the musical- 
comedy conventions shackle them 
in their search for honest expression. 
With that simple precept, they be- 
gan work on what was to become 
Okjahomal — and virtually a new art 
form. There came the cardinal 
moment when Oscar took Dick his 
first lyric, “Oh, What a Beautiful 
Mornin’.” “W^hen I read it,” Dick 
says, “I was a little sick with joy — 
It was so lovely and so right.” Pco 
pie marvel that he wrote the melody 
for it in ten minutes. Rodgers says, 

'25 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


“The wonder is I didn't break a leg 
getting to a piano.” 

Oscar’s ill-starred years came to 
an end with Ol^lahomal's trium- 
phant opening, but a week later he 
ran an advertisement in Variety, the 
theatrical trade paper. There was no 
mention of the new hit — only a list 
of his past failures with the simple 
statement: Vl’ve done it before and 
I can do it again.” Of course, he 
never did it again. Rodgers and 
Hammerstein went from hit to hit, 
until even their fame became 
famous. 

Throughout their association the 
two worked as one fused talent. The 
only way in which they differed 
was in their method of work. With 
Rodgers it was a painless joy; music 
seems to run out of his fingertips. 
With Oscar it was the joy that came 
with suffering, although, when 
sung, his lyrics sound effortless. 
“There was an almost inevitable 
musical pathway leading from 
Oscar’s words,” Dick says. 

In mid-Septeraber 1959, with the 
New Haven opening of The Sound 
of Music only a week away, Oscar 
was operated on for an ulcer. After- 
wards, we suspected it was cancer 
— everyone but Oscar. His wife 
and Dick and Dorothy Rodgers 
knew, 

“For ten months,” says Dick, “we 

• **You*Il Never Walk Alone/* Q 1945 by 
Williamson Music Inc , New York 


played the worst kind of make- 
believe. The four of us kept making 
plans for things three of us knew 
would never happen.” 

Oscar reacted well to the opera- 
tion and in mid-October joined us 
in Boston where The Sound of 
Music was trying out. He brought 
with him the last lyric he ever 
wrote, “Edelweiss,” a song of sim- 
ple folk quality, to be sung by a 
man about to leave his native land, 
never to sec it again. 

It was some months before Oscar 
noticed that he was losing weight. 
When he saw his doctor, he said 
directly, “Tell me the truth.” The 
doctor told him he had cancer and 
that it was terminal. 

Oscar went to his farm. He called 
his three children and his two step- 
children to him, one at a time, and 
told them. “I’ve had a full life,” he 
said. “I have no complaints — and 
no regrets.” 

In a song for Carousel, called 
“You’ll Never Walk Alone,” he 
had written : 

When you walk through a storm 

Hold your head up high 

And don’t be afraid of tfe dark.* 

Now Oscar faced the dark. He 
met death with the belief in life he 
had expressed so often in his songs. 
That’s why they are part of his 
immortality. 


^iere’s one sure way to stop a red-hot argument — drop one cold fact 


— B./.r. 


126 



WATVa/lUAVUli 


By Joan Paulson 


Top Dog 

Every day is Ludwig’s day 



V ISITORS TO the University of 
California’s Berkeley campus 
often assume that Ludwig 
Fountain, the students’ most popu- 
lar meeting place, is named in 
honour of Beethoven, or perhaps 
some generous graduate. It isn’t. 
It’s named after a dog — Ludwig 
Schwarenberg, a liver-and-white 
German short-haired pointer. Every 
day from early morning until the 
campanile chimes five, the cele- 
brated canine is at his fountain, 


graciously greeting students and 
faculty, receiving offerings from 
their lunches and romping in his 
private dog bath. 

When Prince Philip visited the 
university in 1962, he paid his-royal 
respects to Ludwig. The ceremony 
of His R6yal Highness scratching 
the mournful hound behind his 
slightly wet ear was widely tele- 
vised. 

Ludwig’s emergence as top-dog- 
on-campus is recent. Three years 

727 


Condensed from San Frannsco Examiner 


THE READER^S DIGEST 


ago he was an unknown gun-dog 
happily retrieving pheasants for his 
master, John Littleford, an engineer 
living in Albany, a Berkeley suburb. 
But when the Litdefords moved 
into Berkeley, Ludwig became a 
vagabond. He went on long tours, 
which often ended in his being 
ignominiously carted home in a 
police-car. 

During his wanderings Ludwig 
discovered Berkeley’s new fountain 
in front of the Student Union. He 
joyfully plunged in. When a student 
tossed an empty milk carton on to 
the ground, Ludwig retrieved it. 
Ludwig was home. His retrieving 
abilities became a campus wonder. 
Building workers perched high on 
scaffoldings would toss empty con- 
tainers from their lunch to the 
ground. Ludwig would retrieve 
them and climb the ladders to re- 
turn each container to Us owner. 

When a penny pitch was set up in 


the fountain to collect money dur- 
ing a fund-raising drive, Ludwig, 
bewildered by the project, did his 
best. That night, he suffered an up- 
set stomach and came up with 21 
cents for the cause. 

Such devotion to duty did not go 
unnoticed in Berkeley’s hallowed 
halls. The Daily Californian hon- 
oured Ludwig with a front-page 
story. Finally, the student govern- 
ing body passed a motion which 
named the fountain after Ludwig. 
On April 21, ighi, the Regent's of 
the University of California made 
it official. 

Last yc.ir at an all-univcrsily 
conference in Ikrkcley, on to the 
speakers’ platform majestically 
walked Ludwig. He paused to sniff 
each dignitary, turned as if nodding 
approval to the audience and 
walked off. “Now,” said the Uni 
versity President, “you see wl.o 
really runs the university.” 



Retort Discourteous 

When the (jcrman Em[)cror visited Pope Leo Xfll, (ajuni Bismarck 
tried to follow into the audience chamber. A gentleman of the Papil Court 
motioned him to stand back, as there must be no third person at the inter- 
view. “1 am Count Bismarck,” .shouted the German, as he struggled 
to follow his master. “That, ’ replied the Roman with calm dignity, 
“accounts for, but docs not c^.cusc, your conduct.” 

The Duke of Wellington, at the height of his fame, was walkwig down 
Piccadilly, London, when a gentleman came up, took off his hat, and 
said: “Mr. Brown, I believe.?” The Duke’s answer was simple and 
direct: “Sir, if you believe that you’ll believe anything.” —Time 
i^fi 





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129 



Khrushchevs 

Hidden 

Weakness 

In Eastern Europe 97 million people yearn for 
freedom - and look to the JJ est as their only hope 


By Richaki) Nixon, former Vue-Prestient of the United States 


L ast July 24 1 went into East 
Berlin escorted by five car- 
J loads of Communist agents 
and East German journalists. The 
people I met were obviously afraid 
to show any signs of recognition or 
friendship. Those who did speak to 
me were immediately questioned by 
the police. 

That evening 1 went back to East 
Berlin without advance notice. This 
time the secret police were not 
aware of my presence until I had 
been in the city for two hours. Now 
people came up to me eager to ex- 
press their friendship for the West 
and their hatred of the Communist 
government. 

Last summer I also visited Buda- 
pest, where— in October 1956— 
Khrushchev nut down a revolution, 

IJO 


while the request of the free Hun- 
garian government for U.S. help 
went unanswered. For this reason 1 
did not expect a friendly reception. 
Yet everywhere my wife and daugh- 
ters and I went, we were swamped 
by people who wanted to shake 
hands, or say a word of greeting, or 
ask a question about the West. It 
seemed that every other person I 
met had a relative who had fled 
from the country after the revolu- 
tion. One after another, even with 
policemen standing near by, said, “I 
wish 1 had gone, too.” 

These experiences brought back 
memories of my arrival in Warsaw 
in 1959. Only three weeks before, 
Khrushchev had been given a cool 
reception in Poland, despite the 
Polish government’s efforts to 


Condensed from The Saturday Evening Post 



KHRVSHCHEV*S hidden weakness 


provide a “spontaneous” demon- 
stration of affection. The people had 
even been given free flowers to 
throw at his car in a “typical Polish 
welcome.” But most of the Poles 
simply kept the flowers. 

I was therefore amazed to And 
that although the time of my arrival 
m Warsaw and my route through 
the city had not been announced, 
100,000 cheering people lined the 
streets. So many hundreds of bou- 
quets of flowers were showered on 
us that the driver had to keep stop- 
ping to clear the windscreen. These 
personal incidents could be multi- 
plied a thousandfold by the experi- 
ences of others who have travelled 
in Communist-controlled Eastern 
Europe. 

Khrushchev knows that he is sit- 
ting on a powder keg. He knows 
that the overwhelming majority of 
the people of East Germany, Hun- 
gary, Czechoslovakia, Poland, Bul- 
garia and Romania hate their 
Communist governments and 
would rise against them if they 
thought they had a chance to suc- 
ceed. He knows that millions 
behind the Iron Curtain would 
leave their homes and go to Free 
Europe or the United States if they 
were allowed to do so by their 
governments. And he knows that 
the people of the captive nations 
consider the West their main hope 
for ever obtaining freedom. 

Today, Khrushchev hopes to keep 
the lid on this Pandora’s box of 
troubles for his Communist empire 


by negotiating a non-aggression 
pact between the NATO nations 
and the Communist Warsaw Pact 
group. 

This would give him exactly 
what he wants — recognition by the 
West of the legality and perman- 
ence of his Eastern European Com- 
munist regimes. He knows that all 
he now has are squatter’s rights in 
these countries, obtained through 
force, subversion or coup d'etat. For 
him, a non-aggression pact would 
be a deed of ownership — a legal 
title from the West. 

Yet there are strong pressures for 
the West to make such a deal. I 
believe that only the mobilization of 
an aroused and informed public 
opinion will prevent the sellout of 
the right of 97 million enslaved peo- 
ple in Eastern Europe to be free. 
More and more talk is heard about 
“accommodation,” “disengage- 
ment” and other devices which add 
up to approval of Soviet domination 
-of Eastern Europe. A negative do- 
nothing policy can only destroy the 
morale of millions of anti-Com- 
munists in the Communist world. 

1 believe the time has come for a 
complete change of direction and 
emphasis in foreign policy towards 
that area. Some clear thinking must 
be done about what is at stake for 
the Eastern Europeans, for the 
Communists and for the Free 
World. 

The Communist goal is to impose 
slavery on the Free World. Our goal 
must be nothing less than to bring 



THE READER^S DIGEST 


freedom to the Communist world. 
Our policy must be guided by one 
overriding principle: we stand for 
freedom — not only for ourselves but 
for all people. I believe that this 
objective can and must be accom- 
plished without war. 

Eastern Europe is Khrushchev’s 
greatest potential weakness; it is 
the area of greatest potential 
strength for*the Free World. What, 
then, can be done to help these 
people achieve their freedom? 

First It must be recognized that 
there are some things that cannot 
be done. There should be no loose 
talk of starting revolutions in these 
countries in which thousands of 
Soviet troops are stationed, with 
millions more poised on the border. 
We need only recall the tragedy of 
the Hungarian Revolution. This 
was a true people’s revolution. 
Thcjusands of workers and students 
succeeded in overthrowing the 
tyrannical Communist government. 
Then the Soviet Army marched 
into the streets^ of Hudapest. The 
freedom fighters asked for help; 
they were given sympathy. What 
more could have been done short 
of risking world war is open to 
question. 

I think the crime committed by 
Khrushchev and his Communist 
puppets in Hungary was so great, 
however, that more dramatic 
methods should have been used to 
bring it to the attention of the 
world. First, when Khrushchev re- 
fused to withdraw his troops from 

^ 3 ^ 


Budapest, the United States should 
have broken off diplomatic relations 
with the Soviet Union. Second, the 
organization of “volunteers” should 
have been permitted in free coun- 
tries to help the freedom fighters. 
This is the action the Kremlin has 
taken in corresponding situations. 
Third, when the puppet Kadar 
government was set up in place of 
the free government, a government- 
in-exilc should have been recog- 
nized. This would have been a 
symbolic rallying point not only for 
Hungarians but for people through- 
out Eastern Europe who admired 
their courage and shared their ideals 
of freedom. 

I believe that there must be a sin- 
gle standard for freedom. Its denial 
anywhere, in any place in the world, 
is surely intolerable. The ghetto, 
that grim relic of man’s injustice to 
man, must go, wherever it exists. 
And this includes Eastern Europe, 
the most shocking ghetto of them 


all. 


The Free World cannot write 
off 97 million people — people who 
now live in a place they are not 
allowed to leave, under a govern- 
ment they did not choose, and with 
no right to demonstrate, to vote or 
otherwise to voice their opinions 
against the tyranny which has been 
imposed upon them. 

Let us take at face value the claim 
that Khrushchev will be irritated by 
any raising of the issue of freedom 
for the captive peoples. Is this not 
the time to test his intentions? A 



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nuclear-test ban has recently been 
agreed with him. The “new” Khru- 
shchev is being pictured all over the 
world as the leader in the fight for 
peace and in reducing tensions be- 
tween East and West. But what has 
he actually done to reduce tensions? 

It is claimed that the danger of a 
war has been lessened by the sign- 
ing of the test ban. But there is no 
doubt that if the danger of war has 
been decreased, the danger of defeat 
without war has been substantially 
increased. 

In Western Europe, in the United 
States and in Latin America the 
Communist parties are stepping up 
their programmes aimed at the 
overthrow of free governments. 
Communism has made its greatest 
gains through this kind of indirect 
aggression. All signs point to an 
inescapable conclusion : A great 
new Communist offensive is being 
launched against the Free World, 
an offensive all the more dangerous 
because it is without resort to war, 
difficult to recognize and to meet 
effectively . 

Such an offensive cannot be met 
and defeated by a static policy of 
defence. It is altogctlier right and 
necessary that the U.S. Government 
has declared to the people of West 
Berlin that if they are attacked the 
United States will help defend 
them. But the goal must not be sim- 
ply to keep freedom from shrink- 
ing; it must be made to grow, too. 

What are some positive things 
the West could do on behalf of 

^15 


THE READER^S DIGEST 


freedom for the 97 million people 
of Eastern Europe? 

• Above all, the hope of freedom 
must be kept alive in their hearts. 
This means resisting Khrushchev’s 
every attempt to gain recognition 
of the legality and permanence of 
Communist domination of their 
countries. 

• Each of the East European 
countries must be treated on an 
individual basis. Although their 
governments are Communist, thev 
are no longer a bloc in the mono- 
lithic sense. The people in each of 
these nations fear and distrust the 
Russians. They also have great 
national differences among them- 
selves. Nationalism, which is grow- 
ing in Eastern Europe, is a problem 
for Khrushchev. But it is the Free 
World's ally. 

• These goals should be set: (i) 
get the Soviet occupation forces out 
of the countries of Eastern Europe; 
(2) get the Communist governments 
to allow citizens to leave if thev de- 
sire to; ( get the Communist gov- 
ernments to adopt a let-li\c |icj1icv 
towards the countries’ established 
churches and other institutions of 
freedom; (4) increase direct contact 
with the people, including visits 
from high-ranking officials to re 
mind them that tliey arc not for 
gotten; (5) increase the exchange of 
publications, broadcasts and other 
instruments of comm’inication, 
especially those designed to keep the 
young people in contact with the 
Western world. I'here is a real 

/j6 


danger that a new generation will 
grow up with no knowledge of any 
other way of life, because of lack 
of contact with the Free World. 

* A distinction must always be 
made between the Kremlin and 
puppet governments on the one 
hand and the people on the other. 
The Kremlin’s failure to win the 
voluntary allegiance of the peoples 
of Eastern Europe is one of the 
strongest deterrents to wSovict actions 
that might lead to war. Wc who arc 
free must never forget that the great 
majority of the people living under 
the Communist governments arc 
our friends. 

At Budapest station, as our train 
was about to leave for Vienna, a 
railway worker came up to me. 
Speaking in halting English, he 
said, “My brother left in 1956 and 
is now living in Columbus, Ohio. If 
vou should sec him, will you tell 
him that he was right ^ I should 
have gone, t(X). And 1 hope to join 
him before it is loo late.” 

I'he train started to move before 
he finished, but he kept running 
alongside. “The address,” he shout- 
ed. “I forgot to tell you. It is on 
Euclid Avenue in Cailumbus. Icll 
him I hope to join liim— tell him— 
tell him . . .” The train had pulled 
away before I could get his n.ime. 

He was trying to send a message 
to his brother. But as far as I 
was concerned lie was sending the 
poignant and unforgettable mes- 
sage: “Don’t let us down. We 
want freedom, too.” 




Only the soles of his feet escaped the searing fames 
of the explosion. But courage, a doctor’s deration and 
the will to Ih'e brought Bobby Von Kamp through 


By Joseph Blank 
“ A FTER THE SECOND CXplosiOD, I 

/\ ran out of my house and 
X looked down Avenue O,” a 
neighbour of the Von Kamps said. 
‘*About 50 yards away I saw a ball 
of fire moving towards me. Then I 
looked closer and saw that the ball 
of fire was a boy ! ’’ 

The neighbour grabbed the boy, 
Bobby Von Kamp, and rolled him 
on the road to smother the flames. 
Then he tore off the boy’s charred 


clothing. As he worked, he could 
hear the clang of approaching Are 
engines and ambulance sirens. 

Bobby Von Kamp, two weeks 
away from his nth birthday, lived 
across the street from a petrol 
storage tank on the Houston, Texas, 
waterfront. At 7 p.m. on January 24, 
1961, he was watching television 
with his 14-ycar-old brother Edward 
and a la-year-old friend, Herman 
Holcombs. His father, a seaman, 

n7 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


was on a ship off ffie coast of 
Florida, his modtcr had just gone 
to the grocer’s and his two older 
brothers were out for die evening. 

As the Bugs Bunny cartoon was 
going off the air, the boys smelt 
petrm. High-octane fuel had been 
leaking out of the storage tank 
across the street. Suddenly the 
vajxHirs exploded. Clouds of flame 
boiled thihugh the air, licked 
through the open windows. The 
three boys dashed for the front door. 
Eddie held open the screen door as 
another explosion shodc the street. 
He caught a burst of flames on his 
back. Part of the screening in the 
door simply melted into nothing. 

The boys ran. Eddie slipped and 
fell. Herman said, “I’ll stay,’’ and 
knelt by his friend. Bobby yelled, 
“I’ll get help!’’ He ran down the 
street with flames streaming from 
his clothing. 

As soon as ambulances arrived, 
Bobby and Eddie were rushed to 
the Texas Children's Hospital. Her- 
man, the least burned, was taken to 
another hospital. 

As she entered the emergency 
room of Texas Children’s Hospital, 
Dr. Alice Miller,* a paediatric sur- 
geon, saw Bobby, a “charred 
statue.” He was conscious and able 
to answer questions. Dr. Miller 
found that he was burned over 98 
per tent of his body — 70 per cent 
third-degree, (deep) burns, 20 per 
cent second-degree, eight per cent 
flrst-degree. Only the soles of his 

* A paeudonym. 

138 


feet had escaped the flames. (Exten- 
sive third-degree burns are a near- 
overwhelming insult to the blood 
and every organ of the .body. Few 
people have survived 50 per cent 
third-degree burns.) 

Bobby’s entire spine, all his joints 
and the tendons of his hands, fore- 
arms, feet and legs were exposed. 
“Where are you going to find the 
skin to cover him.?” a colleague 
asked Dr. Miller. Mrs. Von Kamp, 
numbed by the horror of the 
tragedy, heard someone say, “It’ll 
be a miracle if either of the boys 
lives.” 

Dr. Miller says, “I don’t believe 
anything is hopeless until it’s proved 
hopeless. I keep trying. In a serious 
burn case doctors and nurses have 
to care very deeply.” 

After Bobby was wheeled into the 
operating theatre, he lapsed into un- 
consciousness. His arms were so 
burned that the doctor was unable 
to take his blood pressure to esti- 
mate the depth of shock. His entire 
body was oozing liquids, joint fluids 
and blood chemicals. At any 
moment the kidneys might stop 
functioning — from lack of fluid, 
caused by oozing, or from inade- 

3 uate blood arculation, caused by 
lock. 

Bobby required injections of 
drugs, liquids and blood chemicals, 
but his body was so burned that Dr. 
Miller had to search for a good vein. 
She found one in the left shoulder. 
At the same time he was given anti- 
biotics to control infection. Bits of 



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cloth and dirt were removed from 
the burns; each finger and toe was 
dressed separately. Then Bobby was 
placed on a Stryker frame, a special 
apparatus designed for minimum 
contact with the body. 

Eddie meanwhile was receiving 
similar treatment from a general 
surgeon. (No doctor can do justice 
to the care of two such patients at 
one time atid still carry on a prac- 
tice.) Eddie was, from the first, only 
semi-conscious; he never did be- 
come rational. 

Dr. Miller worked on Bobby 
throughout the night. For several 
days she examined him every two or 
three hours. '‘Although he could 
move only his eyelids,” the doctor 
said, ”I could see that he knew what 
was happening. And 1 also saw that 
he had courage and determination. 
This was important. He would be 
on the edge of death for a long 
time, and he would need the will to 
live.” 

Pain became a way of life for the 
boys. Each hypodermic injection 
was excruciating. Nurses had to 
change the boys’ position every few 
hours, and whenever they were 
touched their screams could be 
heard on other hospital floors. In 
addition, blood transfusions caused 
constant anxiety. The boys some- 
times received 20 to 30 pints of 
blood a week, and each new trans- 
fusion carried the potential of fatal 
shock. 

“Bobby knew how badly his 
brother and he were hurt,” nurse 

140 


Rae Whittaker said. “He kept try- 
ing to encourage Eddie and cheer 
him up.” 

On the 14th day in hospital, Eddie 
became delirious, and Bobby was 
visibly disturbed by it. Dr. Miller 
spoke to him quiedy. “We’re going 
to put you in another room, Bobby. 
It’ll be better for Eddie to have a 
private room.” 

Before he was moved to his new 
room, Bobby was first taken to the 
operating theatre to have his dress- 
ings changed, a two- or threc-times- 
a-wcek procedure so painful that it 
had to be done under a general 
anaesthetic. While Bobby was in the 
operating theatre, Eddie died. 

That night Bobby’s temperature 
dipped to 94*4 degrees and his 
white-blood-cell count doubled, 
signs of a massive infection. The 
doctor suspected the onset of fatal 
septicaemia — blood poisoning. 
Laboratory work to determine the 
specific bacteria required 48 hours. 
If the infection proved to be blood 
poisoning, Bobby would be dead by 
the time the report was known. 

Dr. Miller decided not to wait. 
She administered a highly potent 
drug, one known to be very danger 
ous to the kidneys — which in this 
case had already undergone assault 
from the effects of the burns. It was 
a risk based on educated guesswork 
and hope. The gamble paid off. 
Within 24 hours Bobby’s tempera 
ture, blood count and pulse returned 
to normal. 

In his new room, Bobby waited 






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142 


A BOY'S ORDEAL BY FIRE 


more than a week before he could 
bring himself to ask about Eddie. 
The loss shook him profoundly. He 
felt that his brother, by waiting to 
hold open the screen door, had 
sacrificed his life for him. 

He also knew that his own sur- 
vival was uncertain. Once he asked 
Dr. Miller, in a tone that combined 
pleading and challenge, “You’re not 
going to let me die, arc you?” 

“No, Bobby, wc’rc not,” she as- 
sured him. 

He asked for his cowboy boots 
to be placed on a table where he 
could sec them. “I’m going to wear 
those boots some day,” he said. 

A little more than five weeks after 
the accident, Dr. Miller began skin 
grafts. Third-degree burns arc so 
deep that the iKxly cannot build new 
skin; the .skin must be replaced. In 
the first operation she cut thin, al- 
most transparent patches (rf .skin 
from the thighs of Bobby’s older 
teenage brothers, William and 
Larry, and sutured them to the 
patient’s thigh, leg, arm and hand. 
Skin from another person’s body 
will not graft, but it will last two or 
three weeks before being rejected. 
Durifig that time it will protect the 
surface from infection and reduce 
the I0.S.S of bcxly fluids through ooz- 
ing. 

Then from Bobby’s first- and 
second-degree burn areas, which did 
heal themselves, she cut postage- 
stamp-size pieces of skin. These she 
attached to the critical joint areas, 
suturing the larger pieces but simply 


placing the smaller “stamps” on the 
wounds and applying a pressure 
bandage to keep them in place. 

The long procedure-— it took 
nearly seven hours — ^was a tremend- 
ous undertaking for Bobby, and on 
the following day he weakened. His 
temperature rose to more than 104 
degrees. His pulse quickened. His 
neck veins became distended. He 
to be going into heart 

The cardiologist could not deter- 
mine what was happening inside his 
heart, however, because there was 
nowhere on his body to put the leads 
of an electrocardiogram machine. 
Dr. Miller assumed that an infection 
was taking over all his body, and she 
put him on a regimen of antibiotics. 
For .several hours he teetered be- 
tween failure and improvement, 
then gradually his pulse, breathing 
and temperature returned to 
normal. 

Week after week the struggle to 
keep Hobby alive continued. As 
soon as the thighs of William and 
Larry healed, the biA's returned to 
the ho.spital to donate more skin. 
Bobby’s own body contributed bits 
of skin for permanent graft.s. The 
joints of one finger on the left hand 
and two on the right hand were so 
hopelessly burned that amputation 
was required, but from these fingers 
the doctor salvaged little pieces of 
skin for grafts. 

In the tenth week Bobby began to 
slide into a deep emotional reaction 
against his ordeal. He rebelled 


appeared 

failure. 



THE READER^S DIGEST 


against pain and the interminable 
treatment. He.refused to take injec- 
tions. He didn’t want to eat. Since 
burn cases require an intake of pro- 
tein to build tissue, the nurses spent 
hours cajoling, pleading and per- 
suading him to take a few bites of 
meat. Sometimes they would retire 
lo an office and cry, in frustration, 
before returning to Bobby and try- 
ing againi 

The memory of the explosion and 
the fire now overwhelmed him. 
When a child popped a balloon in 
the hospital corridor, he shook and 
cried. Lighted matches disturbed 
him. He asked his father not to wear 
a favourite vellow shirt. At night he 
had horrible dreams. “Eddie!” he 
shouted in his sleep. “Let's get out 
of here! Tm on fire!' Then he 
awoke screaming. 

These psychological problems 
were as dangerous to Bobby as 
infection. A clinical psychologist in- 
duced hypnosis without Bobby’s be 
ing aware of it. “Through a process 
known as hypnotic desensiti/ation,” 
the psychologist explained, “Bobby 
began to understand that the lire 
was past and couldn’t hurt him 
now. He was in the hospital. He 
was safe.” 

It worked. Bobby never had 
another nightmare. His determina- 
tion and optimism returned. He 
continued to improve. Then one 
evening at home, Dr. Miller re- 
ceived the news that Bobby’s tern 
perature was /cKiming, his stomach 
was distended and he was vomiting. 
144 


The hospital resident doctor ven- 
tured that it could be an intestinal 
block. 

Dr. Miller rushed at once to the 
hospital, examined Bobby, then 
questioned him about the.fbod he 
had eaten during the past two days. 
Well, he had had some chocolate 
that afternoon. How much.^ Four, 
maybe five bars. 

The doctor immediately ordered 
an enema, then gave Bobby a 
blistering scolding. When she had 
finished, he said, “I know I’m going 
to live now. You wouldn’t have 
scolded me like th.it if you thought 
I was going lo die.” 

I'he skin grafts were now taking 
beautifully, but the unexpected was 
always routine. Infections flared 
and subsided. Bobb>’s lower right 
leg had been burned to the bone. 
Since there was no base of tissue on 
which to place skin, the .orthopaedic 
surgeon recommended amputation 
But Dr. Miller was reluctant; she 
decided to try to s.ive the leg. She 
drilled tiny holes through the bone 
into the m.irrow; the granulating 
tissue grew through these openings 
and eventually covered the bone. 
She had a ba.se on which to graft 
skin, the skin tiKik, and the leg was 
saved. 

“Everything worked,” Dr. Miller 
said. “We could have lost Bobby at 
any time. Septicaemia. Other infec- 
tions. Kidney shut-down. Heart 
failure. Rejection of grafts. He was 
transfused with hundred.s of pints 
of blocxl, and he went through some 






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THE READER^S DIGEST 


70 major operations. He could have 
failed during any one of these pro- 
cedures, but he didn’t. In everything 
we did, we seemed to have the touch 
of gold.” 

She had estimated that Bobby 
would spend more than a year in 
hospital, liut six months from the 
day of admission, his parents helped 
him into a wheelchair and took him 
home. SHortly afterwards he began 
walking by grimly holding on to 
the wheelchair and pushing it ahead 
of him. 

A few weeks later, when he 
first came back to see Dr. Miller, 
he pushed himself out of the wheel- 
chair in the hospital corridor and 
then, wobbling and perspiring, 
walked without support into her 
office. The two embraced. 

Today, Bobby walks and runs 
with a slight limp. He plays ball 
and rides a bicycle. Except for a scar 


near his left car, his face shows no 
sign of the ordeal. His body shows 
scars and grafts, but he’s not self- 
conscious about them. 

Several times a year he returns to 
the hospital for more grafts. Grafted 
skin will not grow, so until he 
reaches maturity additional skin 
must be grafted to match his growth. 
When in hospital, he likes to spend 
his time with sick and injured chil- 
dren. Once he stayed awake through 
the night, trying to give comfort to 
a girl who had been burnt. “When 
I see that I make somebody feel a 
little better,” he told me, “I feel a 
little better. I tell them how badly 
off I was, and how I am now. I’m 
not going to let what hapjx‘ned to 
me stop me from doing what I want 
to do. Tm just walking on.” 

“Bobby will make it,” Dr. Miller 
said recently. “He’s proud of his 
life.” 


StiiUnunt about owturshp and other particulars concerning the 
Indian Edition of The Reader's Digest 

4 Phil c of puHiiMion 5 (Viiirt. f.inislK(l)i Tata Road, Hombay 1. 2. Penoduity 
of puhlnution month) v ^ Printer’s Same, Nationality , address Raniknshna K 
Dlioic, hulun, Bomliav Jim An OffMt & Liifio Works, 10 Sussex Road, V^ttona 
(iardtr.!, Homb.iv 27. .j. Publisher 's Name, Natwnality , Address Rcsidrnt Publij»hir, 
Th.ir<Kjr Paranicshwar, Indi.iii, The Rc.idcr’s Digest Assncialum l*rivjie Ll<i , *5 Lotus 
Ctmrt, J. Tata Rijjd, Homktv i. hditort’ Names, Nationalities MicJud R S. 
Randolph. British. Resident fiditorial Reprt st illative * Tharoor Paramesbwar, Indian, 
5 Lotus 0 >uri I Tata Road, Bombay 1 Names and addresses of indwuitvils who 
own the newspaper The Readtr’s Digest \ssoiiation Bn vale Ltd., 5 I.olus Court, 
J. Taid Road, Bombay i Partners or shareholders holding more than one per tent of 
the total laptial The Reader’s Digtsi Association Lid., 25 licrkeley Suuare, London 
W.j. 

I, Tharoor Par.imcsuwar, iicrcby declare than the particulars given above are true 
to ilic best of my knowledge and belief. 

Date- March 1964. Signature of Resident Publisher; T. Parameshwar 



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u I 


By Donald Culross Peattie 

One of today s most eminent 
writer-scientists discloses the steps that 
kd him to a sure and certain belief 


wfck of KMching me to read. In my 
thick mittens my grip of the bank- 
note was lost; a wild gust blew the 
money out of my hand. My sister 
and my aunt, watching from our 
house, emerged to hunt for the note. 
1 sat down and shut my eyes. 

“For goodness’ sake, why don’t 
you help find it?” demanded my 
indignant aunt. 

“I’m praying you will,” 1 said 
148 


loftily, from my pious blindness. 

One way or another, the money 
was found. But I did not long pre- 
serve the illusion that prayer is a 
kind of abracadabra producing 
magical results. Indeed, I soon grew 
weary of prayer. To ask divinity for 
favouis seemed to me presump- 
tuous. In times of great moment a 
prayer might rise naturally to my 
lips. But for 50 years I could not feel 
empathy with the many, humanly 
small petitions that rise constantly 
from this troubled earth. Such, at 
least, were not for me to make. 

'rhcii, in my 56th year, I fell des- 
perately ill. The doctors told my 
wife to be a brave woman and give 


A NATURAUSrS PATH TO FAITH 


me up. But hers is a fighting courage 
and, yes, a praying courage. More, 
she brought me word that my friend 
the Neapolitan tailor was praying 
daily for me, and that the devout 
waitress in the little restaurant near 
the hospital included me always in 
her prayers. I did not question, in 
my gratitude to them, what weight 
these petitions could have in the 
scales that balanced life with death 
for me. Humbly I discovered a 
reverence I had lacked. And, lying 
in my hospital bed, I traced back 
over the path of my life by which 
I had come to it. 

1 had been baptized and con- 
firmed in a Protestant faith known 
for its mellow beauty. I had loved 
that beauty, which to my mind was 
manifest most superbly in the 
Gothic cathedrals of England. At 17 
1 had made a pilgrimage to these 
cathedrals, and at each was swept to 
glorv by the soaring grey arches, the 
celestial rainbows cast b\ the rose 
windows, the ancient sculptured 
deftiil wrought in such piety so 
long ago. 

At S'ork Minster, the choir 
was in full voice; the organ thun- 
dered down the nave in a tide 
of sound that pulled me to mv 

l)0N\in I ROSS Pl/vtiil has <listin^ruish(.a 
liimsclf js j natuiali&t, an author of man) 
KThnual book« ami papers, and 
niaga/iiio wiitiT and no\clist Among hi 
ht‘st<known l>ooks are '‘An Alnianai fo 
Moilrriis,”‘ ‘ Singing in the Wilderness,’ 
“Flown mg liarth” and "Parade Will 
Banners.” Suite i() 4 ^ he has Ivcn a Roving 
hdilor of The Reader's Digest. 


knees. But even in that moment of 
rapture 1 caught hold of the tail of 
my reason : I recognized that it was 
the mighty power of architecture 
(which has been called frozen 
music) and the oceanic music itself 
that I was adoring — not God. I was 
experiencing a passion for man- 
wrought beauty, not a religious 
exaltation, and I had enough clarity 
of mind to perceive the difference. 

Beauty indeed was my guide, un- 
til at the age of 20 I enrolled in 
the biological sciences at Harvard 
University, where the professors 
were great enough to match their 
subjects. They taught a discipline . 
stern as any religious order’s, the 
discipline of science, and ardently I 
embraced its tenets. 

The first was that no life ever 
comes from no-life, A culture me- 
dium once sterilized and kept sterile 
would for ever produce no growth 
— plant or animal. Where did life 
originate^ This was a subject for 
lively discussion with my room- 
mates into late hoiirj. That it might 
have been formed under unique cir- 
cumstances here on earth, or that it 
blew from between the stars as cos- 
mic dust, were ideas equall) stirring 
to my >oung mind, and I found an 
intellectual pleasure in matching 
this with the words of Genesis; 
“And the Lord Ciod formed man of 
the dust of the ground, and breathed 
into his nostrils the breath of life; 
and man became a living soul.” 

A second tenet, equally exciting, 
was that this planet home of ours 

149 



THE READER'S DIGEST 


had a beginning billions of years 
ago, and that it must have a predes- 
tined end when all life on earth, 
including man, will cease to be. The 
sun will shrink and cool and be- 
come a dead star; the earth, losing 
atmosphere and oceans, will drift 
farther and farther from the sun, 
until in something less than an eter- 
nity of tin^e it will be cold as Pluto, 
most distant of the planets. This 
prospect exhilarated rather than de- 
pressed me, aware that in theology 
the end of us all is called the Last 
Judgement. 

Most appealing of all to a young 
man who loved freedom of thought 
was a third tenet — namely, that 
there is no Revealed Authority. I 
was taught that because you read 
something in the Koran, or the 
Rig-Veda, or even the Bible, it isn’t 
necessarily true. Moreover, these 
professors of mine made clear, 
science is sceptical of its own author- 
ity. Darwin, -Mendel, Galton, Sir 
Isaac Newton, I realized with a 
thrill, may be ^prapped at any time 
in favour of better explanations. 

A fourth tenet of science— and 
again I marvelled at the parallel to 
the poetry of Genesis— is the fact of 
evolution. I found that how evolu- 
tion works is still being argued, but 
evolution itself is unquestioned — a 

r t and shining fact that makes 
world more wonderful. 

A fifth tenet was the atomic na- 
ture of all matter — not a new idea, 
but old as the Greek philosophers. 

I could not guess then that this was 
/50 


a truth that was to reveal more and 
more terrifying truths. 

Out of these tenets was formed 
for me a creed — the creed of pufe 
science. But was there in it, I would 
pause to ask myself, any foundation 
for the faith that brings aid to the 
soul in travail.^ 

I wondered only passingly, hav- 
ing no troubles. I inclined for a time 
to become a disciple of Aristotle, 
that Adam of learning who taught 
that existence had its origin in 
supreme intelligence, and that 
everything has an intelligent cause 
and serves its useful purpose, that 
purpose being the development of 
higher planes of existence. Science, 
thought the great old pre-scientist, 
had but to put the pieces of the 
puzzle together to expse for praise 
the cosmic design, all beautiful. 

It is a contenting concept. Many 
hold to it today. Peace be unto them. 
But I went on reading of science 
such as Aristotle did not dream of, 
and learned that wise men, probing 
life and its patterns, found nowhere 
any certainty, in the vast testimony 
of nature, that the universe was 
designed for man. Nor yet for any 
purpse, even the purpse of self- 
improvtment. 

Aristotle said that life is soul pr- 
vading matter. But, I argued to my- 
self, he could not have meant by 
soul the pure moral spirit revealed 
by Jesus in such searching truths that 
the best of Christians must struggle 
to live by them. No, I saw that 
Aristotle, bless his old soul, meant 




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THE READER'S DIGEST 


simply life itself. And here, in the 
morning of my years, I got hold of 
a form of worship that quarrelled 
neither with science nor cathedral. 

It was worship of life^ natural life 
in all its everyday glory. I loved a 
spider’s web with the dew on it. I 
loved a pine grove, the shade and 
the scent of it, and its deep sea-song. 
I loved the call of the white-throated 
sparrow in the spring ram, silvery 
ind descending like the slant drops 
themselves. I loved a flower, whose 
purpose is to make a seed, and the 
seed itself, tinily secreting its 
embryo in the palm of my hand, 
hiding its purpose, which is to make 
a flower. 

This breath, this life, whose very 
nature is to die, unconquerably pro- 
claims the glory of both variety and 
order. We are pari of that order. Wc 
are the stuff of the tree, which like 
our flesh is protoplasm. We are the 
stuff of the stars, for at the nuclear 
core of each molecule of human 
blood is an atom of that same iron 
which comes hurtling down in 
meteoric fragment. More, every 
atom has a structure like that of the 
planetary system with its central 
sun; the very pattern and force of 
the atom are akin to the revolutions 
of our solar system. And on this 
planet of ours life is the manifesta- 
tion of some long, slow will to vic- 
tory that is held up to the sky and 
the stars. 

Armed with this vision, I left 
university, parting from my room- 
mates, who went their way into the 


research sciences (where all won 
scholar’s fame). 1 went outdoors. 1 
went, with vasculum and bird 
guide, to the Appalachian Moun- 
tains in late-spring bloom. Summer 
found me collecting in the 
whistling, shifting dunes of Indiana, 
where the grasses inscribe wind- 
driven circles in the sand. Autumn 
found me on Mount Washington, 
exulting that I knew my place in the 
world at last— that of a naturalist. 

Soon I married; and I saw my 
wife bear a child, and then others. 
Now truly I was caught up in the 
web of life. I saw more clearly that 
man is a part of nature, and what- 
ever he believes must be based upofi 
this fact. 

A man’s blood is sea water, ancf 
his tears arc salt. The seed of his 
loins is scarcely different from the 
same cells in a seaweed. A man who 
goes in no consciousness of these 
facts is a drifter and a dreamer, 
without a home, or any contact with 
reality. 1 was a believer in divinity, 
but what I loved was what Thom.is 
Jefferson called “Nature’s (iod.“ 

And this adoration of divine 
nature stood by me; it withstood 
even the onslaught of tragedy. Ou** 
first child and only daughter was 
suddenly swept from us by disease. 
Hut I did not find her wholly gone. 
In all things little and gay and 
innocent I could always find again 
the feet like rain, the laugh like 
brfx)ks, the eyes like gentians. Life, 
I thought, is at its old trick of escap- 
ing, changing, transmuting into 







THE READER'S DIGEST 


some other lovely jdiape an im- 
perishable element. 

Then, suddenly, after five months 
in hospital, I too seemed about to 
go. A surgeon came to my room. 
We talked of the meadowlarks he 
had heard carolling on his early 
drive from home. Then, with one 
swift stab of the needle, they jmt 
me to sleep. 

Now I was not there to adore the 
redwoods as gods rooted in earth, to 
praise the hermit thrush as heaven’s 
best chorister. Where I was I do not 
know. No one can say. Kut it may 
be that I was not as passive as the 
body on the operating table. 

My wife, as I lay still unconscious 
and but tenuously holding to 
breath, spoke to the weary surgeon, 
who had been working over me for 
four hours, of my great and grateful 
love of life. He did not smile; he 
nodded. “And how that helps!” he 
told her earnestly. 

Humbly I take his surgeon’s word 
for it. I do not understand it; I 
know now how much I do not 
understand. I’hrough a long con- 
valescence in that top room of the 
hospital, where an owl came nightly 
to keep me company in the big pine 
outside my window, I discovered 
how healing are the unspoken 
prayers of gratitude. Besides my 
friends, the tailor and the waitress, 
I had many others to thank. And 
my thanks, tex), went higher. 


Months later, when I was home, 
the surgeon came to visit me. Per- 
haps my recovery was some small 
comfort to him, for he who had 
given me back my life had just lost 
one dearer to him than his own, his 
wife’s. 

The purest prayer, the most 
skilled science, do not always pre- 
vail. Yet in his face was acceptance, 
trust still in the (>reat Ally with 
whose aid we two had won our par- 
ticular common battle. We did not 
speak of Him together; there was 
no need, and He is best talked -to 
alone. We bt>fJi knew that He is 
more than life, and more than 
death. He controverts no scientific 
law, no natural prcx:csscs. He will 
outlast the shrinking sun and chill- 
ing stars. In love of Him there is 
room for all manner of thinking, 
including that devout wonder with 
which I am now content. 

Over a century ago a young spin- 
ster dying of tuberculosis on the 
Yorkshire moors, a girl n.imed 
Emily Bronte, dared to (Icfine Him: 

Though earth and moon were 
gone, 

And jiUns and universes ceased to he. 

And Thou wert left alone, 

Every existence would exist in 
Thee, 

With such assurance, such com- 
[lany, it is easy for a man lo travel 
the last of the road. 


MARK of a true executive is usually illegible.— i^o FbucJI 


^54 



BOOK SUPPLEMENT 



The Story of the 

Mayflower’S Voyage 
FROM England 



and the 

PILGRIMS’ First Year 
IN THE New World 


FROM A FORTHCOMING BOOK 
Hy IhooKis Hftniuz 


There are a few moments in 
history that transcend time 
and take on an ageless meaning. 
Such a moment came when 
. 102 English men, women and 
children boarded the “Mayflower” 
for a voyage of adventure and 
hope to the New World. 

I 

In a x'ivid, rnvaling portrait 
of the Pilgrims, “One Small 
Qindle” tells the story of a 
hand of farmers, merchants 
and yeomen who sun'iml 
threats of shipivreck, mutiny, 
Indian attack, hunger and 
disease, and founded a 
commonwealth under God. 
It is an inspiring chronicle of 
spiritual courage and 
back-breaking toil which 
becatne the soul and the sinew 
of a new nation. But, above 
all, it is the story of a triumph 
in brotherhood and love that 
remains an enduring landmark 
in man’s endless pilgrimage 
towards freedom and faith 




I ^ HE SHIP had never carried 

i passengers. She was a 

JiL freighter, rather old and 
tired after years of running taffeta 
and satin from Germany, hats and 
hemp to Norway, wine and cognac 
from France. Thanks to the wine, 
she was a “sweet ship,” her holds 
full of pleasant odours. But other- 
wise, riding high beside her pier on 
the Thames that mild Jiinc day- in 
1620, she was no different from a 
hundred other square-riggers in the 
bustling Port of London. 

Two men walked down the 
crowded quay, and one called out 
to a seaman repairing sails on the 
sunny deck : 

“Ahoy there ! Mayflower of Lon- 
don?” 

“Aye.” 

“Captain Christopher Jones?” 
“Aye.” 

They were necessary questions, 
for the ship had a common name; 
at least 20 Mayflowers are recorded 
in the port records of the era. Cap- 
lain Jones invited the two men 
aboard, and in His comfortable 
“(Jreat Cabin” they introduced 
themselves. Robert Cushman, a 
quiet, ner\ous man with wary eyes, 
described himself as a wool comber. 
His companion, a bluff hearty Lon- 
doner named Thomas Weston, did 
most of the talking. 

A born promoter, Weston told 
Captain Jones that he and some 
London friends were setting up a 
stock company to finance a new 
“plantation” in America. Cushman 

‘57 




THE READERS DIGEST 


March 


was acting as a repreientative for 
the colonists — ^a group of English 
religious exiles who had been living 
in Holland. The company had re- 
cently obtained a royal patent for 
a tract of land on the American 
coast. All that was needed now was 
a ship. Would Captain Jones be in- 
terested? 

Christopher Jones was 50 years 
old, a steady, respectable business- 
man with a wife and two children 
ashore. With a quarter interest in 
lYxcMayftower to guarantee his pros- 
perity, he might well have th :»ught 
twice about making a journey across 
the vast, treacherous Atlantic. 

But for years Captain Jones had 
been hearing and reading stories 
about America. Almost every month 
a new book appeared by some cap- 
tain or ship’s surgeon, describing 
the wonders of the new coasts. And 
when Jones went to the theatre he 
was likely to see such characters as 
Caliban, that strange native of the 
New World in Shakespeare’s The 
Tempest, or Captain Seagul in 
Chapman’s Eastward Hoe who told 
wild tales of rubies and diamonds 
on the American seashore. 

It all made the life of a merchant 
seaman seem pretty tame. In his 
younger days. Captain Jones had 
hunted whales off Greenland. Why 
not one more daring voyage, before 
old age crept up? 

There was scx)n some hard bar- 
gaining in the Great Cabin. A 
going rate per passenger— about 
the equivalent of a tourist-class 
15S 


transadantic fare today — ^was 
agreed. The shippers were not to. 
supply food, however; the colonists 
would carry their own. Jones in- 
sisted on the right to charge by the 
day if he were forced to linger on the 
American coast after the passengers 
disembarked. This point was ac- 
cepted, and the three men at last 
agreed on a price. 

The final contracts were signed in 
the next few days. Cushman told the 
captain that the exiles would leave 
Holland in another ship, the Speed- 
well, which would accompany the 
Mayflower and remain in the New 
World. The two ships were to 
rendezvous for the start of the 
voyage at Southampton in mid- 
July — little more than a month 
away. 

The Exiles 

On the surface, the hiring of the 
Mayflower might have seemed to 
be a routine business transaction. If 
Captain Jones had known all the 
dangers it involved, however, he 
would almost certainly have had 
second thoughts about the agree- 
ment. 

Despite the royal patent, the ex- 
iles in blolland were all still subject 
to arrest at the king’s whim the 
moment they reached England. Far 
more alarming to Captain Jones 
would have been the news that one 
of his first passengers would be 
smuggled aboard the May flower in 
disguise, because he was a fugitive 
for whom King James had been 



ONE SMALL CANDLE 


ransacking England and Holland 
for more than a year. 

Such royal manhunts were by no 
means uncommon at the time. Eng- 
land in 1620 was an uneasy nation, 
racked by grave social and religious 
schisms. King James was draining 
the treasury with his extravagance, 
while shocking the country with his 
moral laxity. For the past century, 
too, the writings of Martin Luther 
and the ensuing Protestant Refor- 
mation had fired men’s minds with 
the ideal of increased personal in- 
dependence. No nation had taken to 
the new concept of freedom more 
eagerly than England, but the king 
resisted and embittered those who 
yearned for religious liberty. 

Two reactions ensued. From secret 
printing presses, books and tracts 
poured acro.ss the country, urging 
reform in the C>hurch of England 
as the first step towards reforming 
a corrupt crown. 

The second reaction went a step 
further. There were those who de- 
spaired f)f reform altogether and 
called instead for complete separa- 
tion from the Church of England 
and the right to worship as their 
consciences directed. 

This was far more dangerous doc- 
trine. If a man were free to choose 
his religion one day, the next he 
might feel free to choose his king* 
So against these “Separatists” the 
royal fury was unchecked. Sheriffs, 
constables and bailiffs were ordered 
to “harry them out of the land.” 

The group of religious exiles to 


whom Captain Jones had chartered 
the Mayflower had been harried out 
of England in compliance with this 
decree. 

They had begun meeting some 
years before at Scrooby, in Notting- 
hamshire, holding secret Services 
under the guidance of William 
Brewster, a bailiff and keeper of the 
King’s Post, When spies and in- 
formers of the local bishop began 
to hound their meetings, they had 
agreed to go into exile. One by one 
they gave up their jobs and left 
their comfortable homes to settle in 
Holland, where religious freedom 
flourished. 

The Ti years they had spent in 
their new home had not been easy. 
Country people used to living off 
the land, they had patiently learnt 
how to toil as spinners, weavers and 
twine makers in the factories of 
Leyden, the centre of Holland’s 
world-famous cloth industry. But 
William Bradford, a young weaver 
who was to become one of their 
leaders, wrote tha^ they had at last 
found “peace and spiiitual com- 
fort,” which they valued “above any 
riches.” 

Why then had they decided to 
leave this peaceful city, with its 
lovely waterways, sunlit squares 
and scrupulously neat streets.^ 

There were many reasons. Years 
before, during the war of Holland’s 
liberation from Spain, Leyden had 
undergone a savage siege in which 
8,000 inhabitants had died of starva- 
tion or disease, and now a new war 




March 

loomed between the two nations. 
The Dutch, eager to have England 
as an ally, might be forced to placate 
King James by suppressing the re- 
fugee church. Then, too, the Dutch 
way of life was attractive and easy- 
going, so much so that the refugees 
feared their children might be 
tempted to adopt it, abandoning 
their English heritage and their re- 
ligious dedication as well. There 
was also the exile’s longing to stand 
u[X)n a piece of soil and say, “This 
IS mine.” 

And so, despite dire predictions 
of famine, sickness and torture at 
the hands of savage Red Indians, 
the decision was taken to establish a 
colony in the New World. 

7’hrce years of d.ingeroiis diplo- 
macy followed the congregation’s 
decision. In England, Brewster and 
jthers negotiated through influ- 
ential friends for a royal land grant. 
At one point, King James sent 
agents to arrest Brewster, who had 
[published a book attacking the 
king’s religious polities. Brewster 
went into hiding (it was he who 
would be smuggled aboard theM^ry- 
fhwer), knowing what would ha[>- 
pen if he were caught. For a similar 
offence a Scotti.sh minister had been 
fined heavily, whipped and pilloried 
twice, had one ear cut off, his nose 
.slit, his face branded with the letters 
S S. (Stirrer of Sedition) — and then 
been imprisoned for life! 

But at last the king was per- 
suaded to grant the patent — not to 
die congregation itself, but to its 

i6o 


ASP/UBI.I7A 




1964 

financial backers, Thomas Weston’s 
stock company. The news was 
quickly sent to Holland, where 
some final, heardveaking dkdsions 
now had to be' made. 

A few married men chose to 
make the voyage alone. Some elect- 
ed to take their wives, but to leave 
certain children behind. Others 
brqught their entire families. In the 
cQfd 16 men, ii women and 19 chil- 
dren boarded the canal boats that 
would take them to the Speedwell 
and thence to the rendezvous at 
Southampton. 

It was a poignant moment as the 
boats glided away from Leyden. It 
seemed a deep and wonderful thing 
to them, this long journey towards 
an unmapped wilderness 3,000 miles 
away. There were echoes in it of 
Moses and the God who had led 
His people to another wilderness. 
Certainly nothing but the deepest 
faith could explain what they were 
attempting. 

As Leyden receded in the dis- 
tance, many turned for a last look 
at its lofty spires, and the pangs of 
their piarting still live in William 
Bradford’s words: 

“And so they left that good and 
pleasant city, which had been their 
resting place near 12 years; but they 
knew they were pilgrims, and lifted 
up their eyes to the heavens, their 
dearest country, and quieted their 
spirits.” 

When the Speedwell docked be- 
side the brown-and'gold Mayflower 
in Southampton ha^^ur, there was 

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* THE READER'S DIGEST 


an cxLitcd, happy reunion between 
the exiles and their leaders who had 
s|>cnt such difficult years in Eng- 
land. Hue these joyous greetings 
soon turned to consternation as the 
Leyden men faced some grim and 
unexpected facts of life. 

Strangers and Bad News 

To START with, they discovered 
that there ^ere already more than 
8o passengers on the Mayflower, 
These “strangers,” as the exiles 
called them, had been recruited by 
Thfimns Weston and his London 
associates to make up the colony’s 
quota. Also on hoard were a num- 
ber of hired hands and servants, 
including six children who had 
been picked from the hundreds of 
orph.ins roaming the streets of 
London. 

It was a shock for the exiles to 
find themselves outnumbered by so 
in my strangers, but worse news was 
to follow. First there were long 
delays, caused by a dispute with 
I’homas Weston over the final 
terms of the colonists’ contract with 
the London backers. When Weston 
refused to advance anymore money, 
the exiles were forced to sell preci 
ous supplies to setdc their debts with 
various merchants. 

Despite these difficulties, the col- 
"onists? were now as ready as they 
would ever be. On August 5, the 
Mayflower and the Speedwell made 
their way our of Southampton into 
the Channel, their holds filled with 
huge barrels of water, beer, biscuits 


and cod, sacks of smoked beef and 
tubs of pickled eggs. 

Now, however, came an almost 
crushing blow. Shortly after the two 
ships sailed, the Speedwell began 
leaking badly. She turned back for 
repirs in Dartmouth and then 
made a second start, but when the 
ships had crossed almost 300 miles 
of ocean, the Speedwell's distress 
flag ran up again. This time they 
returned to Plymouth, where expert 
shipwrights reported that the ship 
was unseaworthy and would have 
to be abandoned. 

This was catastrophic news. All 
previous colonizing expeditions had 
sailed in groups of two or more 
ships. Now, if they were to proceed 
at all, the voyagers would have to 
face the treacherous Atlantic on the 
Mayflower alone. Moreover, the 
Speedwell had been the cornerstone 
of their plans for fishing and trad- 
ing. Without her, hopes of large 
profits dwindled. The colony would 
bt‘ isolated, with no way to get mes- 
sages to England if supplies ran 
short. 

The exiles held a conference with 
Captain |ones. He was confident, 
he said, that the Mayflower could 
make the crossing alone. Then, 
after hours of prayer and medita- 
tion, the voyagers reached the 
courageous decision : they would go 
forward. 

Supplies wenc lugged from the 
Speedwell to the Mayflower while 
Jones calculated the passengers he 
could take from the crippM ship. 




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ONE SMALL CANDLE 


Twenty of the strangers had to be 
left behind, but it was not difficult 
to find volunteers; seasickness and 
forebodings of disaster had taken 
their toll. And so at last, on Sep- 
tember 6, with 102 passengers “all 
being compact in one ship,” as Wil- 
liam Bradford wrote, “they put to 
sea again.” 

Storm at Sea 

A “fine small gale” sent the May^ 
flower bounding out into the North 
Atlantic. For Captain Jones, the 
winds were a welcome gift, but 
most of the passengers promptly be- 
came seasick — much to the crew's 
disgust. 

Friction between the sailors and 
voyagers developed from the first 
day at sea. As the seamen leaped 
to trim a sail or handle the ship's 
network of lines, they did not relish 
bumping into a gaw'king female or 
tripping over one of the 34 children 
who raced up and down the decks. 
But the crew’s hostility went deeper 
than mere contempt for clums\ 
landlubbers. 

The average sailor of the day was 
an illiterate, profane brawler, fond 
of saving that “a man who went to 
sea for pleasure would be likely to 
go to hell for pastime." When the 
Mayflower s crew learned that the 
passengers were religious— each 
morning the exiles gathered on deck 
to sing psalms — they were outraged. 
Psalms and sermons were just the 
kind of thing they had gone to sea